Sacrifice
by LR Earl
Summary: Hermione would not lose her former professor to Azkaban. Having just defeated the darkest wizard of all time, she refused to lose Remus to his grief. On a feral rampage after losing Tonks, Hermione runs into Remus in the Forbidden Forest, ready to make the ultimate sacrifice to curb the wolf's anger. For both, the consequences changes everything. EWE AU Eighth Year
1. Sacrifice

_**Full summary**: Hermione would not lose her former professor to Azkaban. Having just defeated the darkest wizard of all time, she refused to lose Remus to his grief. On a feral rampage after losing Tonks at the Battle of Hogwarts, Hermione runs into Remus in the Forbidden Forest, ready to make the ultimate sacrifice to curb the wolf's anger. The consequences for both change everything. _

_**Author's notes**: This story just keeps building in my head movies and damn if I won't put it down. I seem to have a thing for werewolves, can you tell ;-) I'll be the first to admit, I love me some Remus Lupin, but I wanted to challenge myself to write a darkish/fully-wolfed out!Lupin and this was the result. I hope you enjoy! Follow me on Tumblr for all my fanfic updates and other musings (see the link on my profile)._

_This story is DH compliant to point:_

_*Remus and Tonks are engaged only. They do not have a son at the time of the Final Battle._

_*Will have some HGxRW, but ultimately will be a RLxHG_

_Drama, angst, unresolved feelings, some professor/student scenes and sexual tension abound_

_**Warnings**__: Rated M for dub-con, explicit sexual scenes, language. You've been warned._

_**Disclaimer**: I do not own Harry Potter, the world or characters recognize within. That honor goes to JK Rowling. I'm just playing in her world. Pure entertainment only._

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Chapter One: Sacrifice

The events of May 2nd could hardly be called a victory. The winds were quiet, content to let the stench of war and death linger about Hogwarts' grounds. The fields surrounding Hermione's school resembled pictures of World War II-torn London from her Muggle history books, except this time, the images were real. Hermione knew these people; they were her friends, her teachers and they were not supposed to die like this.

Once upon a time she imagined them all growing old, maybe coming back to teach the younger generations, laughing at old school-time antics, celebrating House victories, but now it was impossible to recognize the carefree school of her youth.

The bodies of Neville and Luna lay together in death, their short-lived romance cut off tragically by war. Fighting for her life had made her numb and while Hermione tried to conjure tears for her lost friends, all she could do was mechanically catalog the names of the dead as she strolled across Hogwarts grounds, memorializing them in her heart for private mourning later.

Neville Longbottom. Luna Lovegood. Colin Creevey. Nameless death eaters lay intermingled with her friends and she wondered briefly if someone would mourn their deaths. History never remembered the losers.

Hermione grabbed her arm, wincing at the slicing curse that had nicked her shoulder, grateful that she had turned at the last moment. Or else she would be among those littered upon the ground.

She had lost track of Harry and Ron sometime during the final fight. Harry had left to fulfill his destiny and square off with Voldemort; Ron and Ginny fought with their family. Hermione didn't know if she would ever see her newly minted boyfriend again; like so many others, they had sworn their love just before the thick of battle, the chance to do so not likely to pass again.

Separated from Ron and Harry, Hermione found herself fighting alongside Kingsley, the twins and Tonks. It wasn't until a great shout came from the front courtyard that she had heard the news of Harry's triumph. Voldemort was dead; evil had been vanquished.

If only that call could revive the dead they had lost. If only it could be that simple as a yell. 'Wake up, we've won, Neville,' she would say and he would smile goofily at her. Luna would wake up too and comment about being with her friends.

Swallowing a sob, the realization struck her like a stone to the gut. She would never speak with Neville or Luna again. Her numb feet took her on a course of its own, her trainers caked in mud and blood. The air was smoky, heavy with spellfire. She stopped before she tripped over a set of robes, a familiar set of robes.

Nymphadora Tonks lay facing upward, her eyes closed. Hermione did not have to check for a pulse to know she was gone. The killing curse left a distinctive mark upon its victims. Squeezing her eyes shut, Hermione willed the tears not to fall.

_Later, _she pleaded with herself, wobbling on her feet. _They never said war would be fair_.

For an unknown reason she would dissect endlessly, Hermione turned towards the Forbbiden Forest. The sun had begun to rise with the new day, although no one felt like celebrating. Something led her into the forest; what, she could not say. Perhaps, she wanted a moment to hide from the world, from the grief that day was sure to bring.

It did not take long for her to hear it.

The further she moved into the forest, the more she heard its' pained cries. She thought at first it was a man, and readied herself for friend of foe. But no man had ever sounded like this. As she rounded a large tree, she had her answer.

Her former Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, sat on his heels, howling in mourning.

She knew Remus Lupin had only seen her as a student, perhaps a little bothersome, but nothing more. And while she grew in years, he never once looked at her more than a student, then a fellow Order member. Once upon a time, she had dreamed of something more, but that was the folly of youth.

The war closed in on them and she gravitated towards Ron, while he grew close to Tonks. Hermione had heard they were engaged last year, about to be married, but now that would never be.

Her former professor's robes were shorn; he struck at the trees, and a vicious howl chilled her to the fiber of her being. She halted her approach, not daring to get any closer.

This was not the man she knew. The genteel professor from her youth, her first plausible crush. Yes, there had been Gilderoy Lockhart, but then there had been _him_. Everything in her gut had convinced her years ago that they were perfect for each other. They were equally alike in intellect, manner and spirit.

But the man before her now was more animal than man. The full moon was more than a week off, but his eyes were a fierce yellow. He scratched at his face, ribbons of blood mingled with the tears of his grief.

She recognized it immediately, her mind returning to her old essay on werewolves from years past, when the war was just a distant illusion. Werewolves who lost themselves to their curse completely were call 'feral' wolves. They were more beast than man, even outside of the full moon. Her old professor had given in to his animal, the wall between man and wolf shattered.

In his grief, he had gone feral, the thought of being ripped from his love too much to bear. Some werewolves never came back once they went feral. Remus had explained to her once that it took a lot of self-control to keep the wolf from taking over completely. Yes, the animal took over during the full moon, as per the curse, but it was a constant battle to keep the animal at bay the rest of the month. But now Remus had consented to his wolf rather than feel any human emotion ever again. Hermione could feel his pain as the man staggered about the forest.

Seeing his agony finally made the tears she had been holding back fall free. Here was a man who had lost his friends once before only to have them returned against hope. He found a love he didn't think possible only to have the war cruelly tear her from him. He was all alone again. A man could only take so much.

Remus howled again, baying at the loss. Silence answered him. Even the magical, ever sentient forest would not answer his calls today.

But Hermione knew through years of conversation with the cursed man, that Remus would not want to live like this. He held the greatest control she had ever seen a wizard, magical creature or not, possess. After that event in third year, Remus valiantly made sure to never lost control again. Hermione hesitantly took a step forward, eager to help, but her foot snapped a twig.

The crack of a branch resounded through the forest and the feral wolf snapped its neck towards her. The sun was high above them, but no sunlight pierced the canopy of the Forribben Forest. Hermione felt an unnatural cold snake over her skin.

"Professor…?" she tried.

But Remus only growled in return. She tried again, hoping to appeal to the rational man lost beneath the surface. She just knew Remus was still in there. Perhaps, she could reach him.

"Professor, I-I know you're hurting. I am so sorry about Tonks –"

But the wages of war ran hard upon them all and even Remus, arguably the strongest man she knew, could not stand the loss of yet another love.

At the mention of his dead fiancee, Remus howled again. It was a frightful thing, even more than when he had changed before them during her third year. It was full of longing, hurt and the deepest pain.

Hermione worried her lip between her teeth and bravely continued, "But, if you don't… if you don't calm down, the others will find you. It is too fragile a time to be caught like this." While she knew Harry and the others would understand, there were still some who were distrustful of werewolves. Now that Voldemort had been defeated, they would be quick to turn on anything that posed a danger to the peace just established. "I'm sorry. I'm _so_ sorry," she pleaded again, reaching a hand towards the man she knew was inside.

But the wolf in him just cocked his head at her, as if he didn't recognize her.

"Professor, it's me," she swallowed, tears running down her cheeks in earnest. "Please. I don't want to lose you, too."

The wolf wearing Remus' body lifted his head and inhaled deeply through his nostrils. His bright eyes stood out amongst the harsh scars marring his face he had given himself. She would have though his eyes beautiful if not for the cold calculation behind their glow. Unsteadily, a thought whispered in the back of her mind. It was a dark whisper full of possibility, but no guarantee.

But now was not the time to research theories. Not when a man's life, a man's sanity hung in the balance. Dropping her wand to the ground, Hermione hesitantly reached up and unbuttoned her jacket. She kept her movements slow and deliberate as not to startle the sharp animal. The wolf tracked her movements and cautiously, she let the jacket drop to the ground beside her wand.

Now that she had his attention, Hermione lifted trembling hands to the hem of her shirt, sweat and grime making it hard to clear her head. The wolf approached her at an angle, his movement too fluid for an ordinary man, as she disrobed.

Fumbling with the snap of her jeans, tears blurred her vision as she realized what she was about to do. But she would do this for a friend, she reminded herself. A friend who needed to be brought back from the recesses of his mind. A friend she did not want to lose to the wild call of his heart. And Remus J. Lupin was a friend.

She had barely shrugged her jeans past her knees when she found herself pushed to the forest floor, the unforgiving ground knocking the air out her lungs. Remus pushed his nose in her throat, inhaling deeply again, this time his nose trailing over her bra, down her stomach towards the junction of her thighs.

She would be willing, she thought as she blinked to trees above her. Rough hands tore at her bra. The painful metal pulled at her back as he ripped the garment from her whole.

Gone was the quiet, gentle man she admired from afar. Further gone was the man who calmly explained things with the wisdom of someone older than thirty-seven years. And gone was the fantasy of sharing her first time with her sweet Ronald.

Remus pushed two fingers into her womanhood, the sensation abrupt and jarring. He could smell her musky scent and the intensity in his eyes darkened as he delighted in what she was about to offer him. He pumped the digits into her mercilessly and despite her internal mantra to remain calm, she found herself slowly responding to his ministrations.

As one hand worked her core, the other slapped and grabbed her breast, kneading the pale flesh and sensitive nipple between his fingers. She cried out, but it was not in pleasure. God, it hurt and she turned her head away from him, no longer wanting to look upon the wolf masquerading in Remus' flesh. She heard the sound of belts unbuckling and pants being removed. The sound of her knickers ripping to shreds alerted her to what was to come next as Remus edged her thighs apart.

She was given no warning. She was given no time to prepare and just as quickly, hard flesh tore her lower half apart. She burned from the inside out and automatically her body tried to retreat the intruding member steadily pushing deep inside her.

Hermione scooted back on her elbows, whimpering in pain, but a strong hand pushed her shoulder down. She fought, but his strength overpowered her as he pulled out of her only to push further in, her barrier no longer hindering him. He repeated the movement, over and over rutted against her body. The forecful thrusts dragged her back against the dried branches and leaves.

She squeezed her eyes shut, praying against hope that this was not in vain. That this pain would soon past. Her eyes flew open when she felt a hand lift the flesh of her left breast. Multiple pricks surrounded the delicate underside of her breast and it was then that she screamed, long and raw; but Remus did not let go. His tongue laved the bite mark she now wore, a painful reminder of who she had given her virginity to. The tenderness on her breast paled against the torment aching from her center. Remus howled with her, long after her throat had burned closed.

God, what had she done?

The man above her shuddered, once, then twice, losing himself to the pleasure her sore body provided. She barely inhaled it hurt to breathe. Remus collapsed on her smaller frame and she groaned as his body brushed against old and new wounds. Some wounds would be healed magically; the ones he had given her would not.

His cock hummed within her, as he lay panting for air. Her arms, which had felt like dead weight before, moved away from him, scared to touch her former professor. Had the man returned… or did the wolf want more? She swallowed audibly as she tested her vocal chords.

"Professor…" her voice sounded meek and she hated it. She hadn't broken before Bellatrix's wand nor Dolohov's curse, but sadly, her Gryffindor courage had stumbled under Remus J. Lupin.

"… Oh God," a bemoaned voice above her spoke. "Gods, what I have done?" Remus pulled back to look at Hermione, watery brown eyes gaping at her in shame.

But Hermione had no answer. Tears fell out of the corner of her eyes and she shook her head, messy curls falling in front of her. The gasps started small at first, then they doubled in frequency and no matter how hard she tried, she could not take in enough air. Panic held her tight in its grip.

Remus pushed to his elbows above her, his eyes wide in horror shock. "Are.. are you alright?" he ghosted on a breath, his hands tracking dirt over her shoulder. She would sink into the earth to move away from him, but the ground forced her close to him. Although, his eyes were no longer yellow, the wolf in recess for now, the memory was still there. Evidence what he did to her body remained.

Remus looked down between them to see their intimately joined flesh and swore. "Forgive me! I didn't mean," he stumbled and pushed back to his knees. Hermione felt a gush of warm liquid fall out of her and she didn't have to look. She didn't want to see the blood of her innocence all over her thighs, all over his member. Remus quickly unsheathed his wand and muttered something under his breath. A gentle warmth spread over her nether regions like warm butter. She could almost hear the man's thoughts, he was muttering to himself so loud. "A contraceptive and healing spell," he answered her unspoken question.

She wanted to laugh ruefully. The man she offered to save was the one healing her. Her limbs felt detached from her person and she wanted slip into unconsciousness. Merciful unconsciousness. But her wish was cruelly mocked as her body allowed her to feel every sensation. Dimly, she heard Remus gather her clothes and re-dress her as best he could.

Now he was being attentive to her needs. _Foolish girl._ Did she think he would go easy on her? That he would delicately placate her crush and take her virginity with a gentle ease? She mourned intensely now. Fat tears ran behind her ears into the earth below. They did not stop as the man who used to be her professor, the one she held an crush for five years, bent to gingerly pick her off the ground.

He cradled her now like some precious treasure, whispering things her mind would not let her comprehend. She floated in and out of awareness. She did not fight to stay awake, looking past Remus' torn clothes; her body could take no more.

As they emerged from the Forbidden Forest, the sun did nothing to ease the cold spreading like ice water within her veins. She was numb; good, she did not want to feel. Clever girl. Thanks to her, the wolf had been tamed, the man freed. But at what price? Before her eyes fluttered closed, she swore she heard the voices of her now deceased friends. 'Wake up, Hermione,' they called. But all she heard was mocking for her thoughtless actions.

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_To be continued... _

_Please review! I love hearing what you think :-)_


	2. Awake

_Author's note: Thank you so much for all the alerts, favorites and reviews. I'm tingling with giddiness! I hope you're enjoying this as much as I am!~_

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Chapter Two: Awake

Even though the young woman was light in his arms, the petite witch was a heavy burden on his heart. There were very few regrets Remus carried in life. He had failed Sirius twice; that night after James' murder and again, when he wasn't quick enough at the Department of Mysteries. Failing to block the killing curse that ended his fiancée's life was another. As he staggered into the Great Hall of Hogwarts, the unconscious girl limp in his arms, he carried his third.

The young Gryffindor foolishly stepped in at the worst possible moment. He cursed her naïveté. His heart, fractured at Dora's death, had splintered the hold he held over Moony. It had simply been too much to bear. Padfoot was no longer there to join him; his closest friends were dead or fighting for the other side. And the brief glimpse of love, the future he had dreamed about, slipped away in a brilliant flash of green.

"Remus, over here!" a disembodied voice called from the side, drawing his attention from dark thoughts. Remus shifted Hermione in his arms and hastily made his way towards the medi-witches delivering triaged care. He walked with a limp, his leg injured, but gave no thought to it; his concern lay with the witch he carried in his arms. He pushed through students, teachers and Aurors milling around; they wore similar solemn masks.

Tables had been pushed aside as remnants of the Light made makeshift beds to lay the injured. Opposite the divide, there was a similar line for the deceased.

"Hermione!" Ronald Weasley shouted as he noticed the pair of Order members from the front entrance. Remus laid the lifeless witch on a makeshift pallet, just as the youngest Weasley son rushed to her side. "What happened to her?" he rushed out, pushing hair out of her face.

Remus swallowed gravelly, tasting the lie on his tongue. "She was injured during the last of the battle. I believe she was hit in the arm, but nothing too severe as far as I can see." He prayed his tone was convincing enough, but it mattered little to Ron as the red-head focused his attentions on the witch before them. Part of him wanted to scream the truth, demand they shackle him in chains for his egregious offenses against the curly-haired witch and haul him away with the rest of the captured Death Eaters, but all he could do was take a step back as the people who cared about her the most gathered round her bed.

Before emerging from the Forest, Remus did his best to clean them both. He could barely stand to look at her, grateful that she had succumbed to shock shortly thereafter. He didn't think he could live with the glare her of accusatory eyes.

Harry Potter approached the herd of Weasleys surrounding her. Remus could not help but smile, thankful his best friend's son had made it through alive. He pulled the younger man into an embrace and the two shared a brief moment of solace.

Harry released Remus with a twisted grimace, nervously twisting his wand. "I heard about Tonks," he stammered. "I'm sorry -"

Remus cut him off with a polite wave. "It's okay," he swallowed with difficultly. Moony sought to be free now that he knew Remus' weakness. Glancing down at Hermione, he thought of her sacrifice with a sigh. He wouldn't be standing here now without her bravery. He reinforced his mental barriers and attempted a placating smile. "Dora and I both were aware of the risks long before today. I will miss her, but I will be alright," he quickly assured the young man and himself. Harry had far too much to deal with; he would not allow the young man to add his pain on top of it.

He silently watched the group reassure themselves of Hermione's well-being. The medi-witch confirmed that Hermione was just unconscious and would arouse shortly. Remus ducked his head in disgrace. Partly-delighted and partly-ashamed the Healer did not detect the unseen injuries, Remus knew he had come this close to being caught. He half-expected the Aurors to arrest him for surely the heavy scent still on his person would be a dead giveaway. But to his advantage, the average wizard could not smell it, but it taunted his nostrils relentlessly, a delicate mix of jasmine and spring.

Watching Ron stroke her hand, Remus' body flushed with heat. The prickliest sensation scattered across his shoulder blades and they hitched in response. He had the queerest feeling to push them away from the witch. The sensation overcame him so fast; it was enough to make his mind spin. He fisted his hands to stop them from moving towards his wand. Where was the protective sense coming from?

He surmised it stemmed from the lingering guilt, but his wolf laughed at him in vain. Shaking his head, he backed away, his eyes drinking over Hermione's form before another voice broke his train of most confusing thoughts.

"Remus! I am so glad you're okay," his old friend Kingsley greeted him. But there was no time for further niceties. "I'm afraid I need your assistance, my friend. We need to round up the remnants of Greyback's wolves. With their Alpha dead, the pack has disbanded. The Ministry does not want to lose track of the stragglers that have defected. I'm afraid the Ministry will need some of your expertise," he asked kindly.

No, the Ministry would not want wild, dangerous wolves on the loose, he thought ruefully. Remus curtly nodded, allowing the wizard to turn and lead him away. He had hoped … what _exactly_ had he hoped? That she would awake and forgive him? That she would be okay with the brutal assault he had just laid upon her person? He doubted the young witch would ever want to speak to him again. The ramification of what he had done fully caught up with him. He did not know what to think. Pressing the heel of his hand into his chest to ease the dull pain beneath the ribcage, Remus followed Kingsley past the rest of the survivors into the courtyard.

Perhaps it was better this way? Maybe her consciousness would allow her to repress it all. But as the ache deepened the further he moved from of the Hall, even Remus knew that was a lie.

His wolf paced within the recesses of his mind, ready to escape. His animal came out at the height of passion: in the midst of battle, mating, or on the hunt. And if his services were required to hunt down the remnants of Greyback's pack, then he would allow the beast to be free, if only in this instance. It was a delicate balance and sacrifices were necessary to remain more man than wolf.

No one would ever know about the temporary release that almost made his lose his humanity. Hermione Granger had seen to it.

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Hermione awakened with a start and a gasp. She sat upright, a stone cold floor beneath her back, half-expecting the forest floor to greet her, not the Great Hall of Hogwarts.

"Whoa," Ron exclaimed, taken aback. "Easy there. I'd reckon you'd taken quite a tumble out there." He gave a lopsided-smile, happy she was finally awake.

She cut sharp eyes to Ron. "How did I end up here?" she questioned, scared to death that he knew her awful secret. She pulled the blankets closer to her person, as if it would cover the shame. Her eyes watered. "Please," she begged in a small voice, her hand tight on the sheets provided.

Ron's brow furrowed at the uncharacteristic uncertainty coming from his girlfriend. Nothing Hermione ever did was uncertain. "Remus brought you here about an hour ago," he answered.

Hermione looked around hesitantly, searching for a tall brown-haired wizard. "Is he still here?"

His head shook in the negative. "He left with Kingsley soon after." His eyes narrowed as he appraised her skittishness. "Why?"

Why indeed? Hermione knew a conversation was sorely needed, but she didn't expect one right this moment, did she? She rationed it would be best to get it out of the way soon. But a small part of her, that part that was still afraid of things that went bump in the night, told her to wait.

"No reason," she deflected, picking at the fibers of her coverlet. Soon, others stopped by with hugs and well-wishes. It became too much however, when Molly began fussing over her. Aside from a little soreness, which subsided with the pain-relief potion, she was physically alright. The scar on her arm had been mended. Her bra was ruined, but her shirt and jacket covered that fact. Insisting she was fine, Hermione left the triage corner of Great Hall, adamant to help join in the search for the missing. There were others who needed care far worse than she.

So, she joined Harry and the others in the effort to round up the remaining of Voldemort's followers. The days melded into a blur after that. There was memorials erected, the Order of Merlin was awarded to several Order members and posthumously to Professor Dumbledore, Severus Snape, Alastor Moody and Tonks. The Ministry sent a detail to Hogwarts to help with the rebuilding efforts. Minerva was insistent upon a return to normalcy and didn't dawdle in erasing what the Carrows had instilled the year before. She vowed to have the school ready by the end of summer.

The start of summer brought a lush green and long days. Even though the sun warmed them all, it wasn't enough to reach the darkest of places.

One afternoon, Hermione lounged with Ron, Harry and Ginny in the tall grasses of the Burrow's backyard three weeks after the final battle. They had just returned from the last funeral for a member of the Light. Hermione was so very tired of funerals; she was tired of grieving. But crying meant she was still alive and while it hurt to grieve, she took solace from the fact she still could show emotion. Many of her fellow soldiers in arms were forever frozen in sleep.

A few weeks back, Hermione couldn't help but notice during the memorial service for a beloved Metamorphmagus, a certain former professor was not in attendance. She squeezed Ron's hand particularly hard the morning of Nymphadora Tonks' funeral, seeking comfort of a different kind, but Remus had not shown to Tonks' funeral. Her heart hammered in her throat at the thought of having to face him then. But it wasn't to be. She hated acting so cowardly at the thought of facing someone she cared about. Time had healed her body's aches of losing one's virginity so recklessly, but it did very little to heal the emotional scars that were just beginning to show.

After the Great Battle, she slept fitfully. An anxiety she could not place took hold of her night after night. As the moon built to its height, the anxiety only worsened. She found herself awake one night pondering the pale, porcelain orb hanging high in the sky. She knew she was not going to shift, Remus had not bitten her as a werewolf, so the curse couldn't have transferred to her.

Then why was she feeling like this? She had half a mind to question Bill Weasley, a victim of Greyback's, but that would draw too many questions she was not yet ready to answer. So she researched the expanse of the Black family library while visiting with Harry at Grimmauld Place to ease her mind. Her friend questioned her well-being, as they all did of late. But they all recovered from the war in their own way, and Hermione would not share this with Harry. She had thought about it, but thought he would find it too egregious a betrayal to Ron. Sometimes, she did too, although her heart argued that she had done it for a friend. But if her internal dialogue couldn't convince her, then surely a conversation with the boy-who-lived would only muddle things.

The first full moon after the Great Battle, instead of the usual anxiety she thought would come, she was surprised to find a great melancholy take hold of her. It lodged deep within her heart cavity and she tried to grab the muscle through her night shirt, but the pain would not abate. Tears that were not from pain fell as she lay awake, bathed in moonlight. It was absolutely horrid. A pain so deep, but not from a discernible injury. Sleep would not come that night, as she lay listening to Ginny sleep soundly. Despondently, she waited for the sun to rise.

Pepper-up potions became a constant companion. The one currently circulating through her system allowed her to listen to the conversation between her boyfriend and Harry.

"A week from today!? You're serious? Don't you think that's a bit sudden?" Harry asked, twirling a piece of grass between his fingers. He sat crossed legged on the dirt, Ginny's head in his lap.

Across from Harry, her boyfriend Ronald answered, "Mum doesn't think so. Says 'we need something to celebrate' with all the funerals lately. Can't say I disagree with that fact." They were quiet for a bit after that assessment.

After a moment, Ginny sighed. "I think it's romantic actually," she offered from Harry's lap, a pool of red spread out across his jeans. "Never imagined it'd be Fred to take the plunge first, though." She absentmindedly braided a string of her hair, staring off into the sky.

Ron sniggered. "It's probably because Angelina's up the duff."

Hermione turned her head towards Ron, her eyes wide. "Angelina's pregnant?!"

The red-head nodded. "After we got back from the Ministry yesterday, I overheard Mum and Angelina speaking about having a ceremony before she starts to show. Apparently my brother and she had some quality time right after Easter." He laughed outright.

"Honestly, Ronald!" Ginny chided. "They probably thought there wasn't much time left. I'm sure they weren't the only ones," she replied cryptically with a sly smile. She shared a private glance with Harry.

Ron grimaced, "Please, say no more."

Hermione echoed his sentiments to which Harry laughed in return. A lot of young couples had taken the plunge in the days leading up to the final battle. It there was ever a time to take things to the next level, right before you died seemed appropriate enough. Like Ron, Hermione didn't want to inquire on the status of her friends' relationship. But gathering by the intimate caresses Harry gave Ginny, then it was likely the two had consummated their fledging relationship … perhaps more than once.

Hermione leaned into Ron's side, allowing him to pull her closer. His hand rubbed the small of her back. As a fairly new couple, they had a few conversations on how far to take their relationship in between funerals for their friends and medal services. Ronald grew impatient, arguing they already had a six-year courtship. In his eyes, there wasn't exactly a need for a waiting period. And before May second, she would have agreed with him. But after her encounter with Remus… Hermione wasn't so sure.

It would be so easy to replace the memories of Remus' violent attack upon her person with Ron. Maybe it would be the catalyst to lift this perpetual depression she was stuck in. But when the moment came when the two could finally be alone, someone always interrupted them or an urgent matter needed their attention.

Ron grieved the lost of their friends as well. Like any couple, they should seek solace in each other. While it seemed plausible on the surface, Hermione was not yet there. The foursome sat quietly among the summer sun, content to just be for the moment. It wasn't long before Molly called Ginny back in the house, no doubt to prepare for wedding activities, leaving the Golden Trio alone.

"So, are you heading for Australia?" Harry asked, once Ginny headed indoors.

That was another thing she was dodging as she considered Harry's question. "I will soon. I'm mostly afraid they will be upset with me for modifying their memories."

"But it was for the best," Ron argued beside her.

"_We_ know that, but they won't see it that way. It's an enormous breach of trust that I used magic on my parents without their knowledge." She looked off to the side. "Maybe they're better off where they are." Abruptly, she stood, another wave of something she couldn't define enveloping her. "I'm going inside, it's too hot out here." Dusting off her shorts, she headed for the interior of the Burrow.

Ron's admission about Angelina expecting threw her for a loop. Dropping a hand towards her flat stomach, she clearly remembered Remus had made sure that there would no physical reminder of what they've done, but still? What if it the spell didn't take? Could that be a reason for all her recent moodiness, depression and the like?

Part of it was attributed to grief/shock they all were struggling to emerge from, that she knew, but this was deeper. She had never experienced this before, and who knew; it could possibly stem from a pregnancy. Something had attached to her soul, staining her unconsciousness into insomnia. Running upstairs into her and Ginny's empty room, Hermione swiftly performed the spell Madam Pomfrey had taught her classmates back in sixth year.

She worried her bottom lip as the light spell entered her abdomen to return … in the negative.

Hermione dropped her wand on the floor and promptly sat down on the bed. She should have been happy. But oddly, she wasn't. Something else was making her feel this way and it wasn't hormones caused by gestation or an illness brought on by lycanthropy.

Absentmindedly, Hermione rubbed her hand over her left breast. She seemed to be doing that more and more of late. Why wouldn't this ache recede? Was she doomed to spend her nights restlessly tossing and turning? What was happening to her?

As if entering a fog, the walls closed in around her. Swiftly, Hermione grabbed her head and held it between her knees, oxygen became hard to swallow as her throat constricted. She screwed her eyes shut and recited the works of Charlotte Bronte to herself, as her parents had taught her when she was a child.

Before she knew she was a witch, she had been mercilessly teased for occurences of accidental magic by her schoolmates in primary school. It got so bad that she started to have panic attacks at the age of seven. With the help of her parents and a school counselor, Hermione developed a tool to calm her racing heart and mind when no one else was available.

Since she started at Hogwarts, there wasn't a need to hold her head between her knees anymore as she had finally found acceptance.

"_A tender grief that is not woe/And thoughts that once wrung groans of anguish/Now cause but some mild tears to flow,_" her voice floated into her ears.

She thought stressing over NEWTS in sixth year and the war would exacerbate the attacks, but Harry had need of her and the attacks all but disappeared. In a way, she was grateful for the distraction.

But this situation with Remus left her confused and the lack of sleep made her delirious. Slowly the floorboards stopped moving and her sight righted itself. Her breathing regulated bit by bit and slowly, Hermione halted her recital. Mutely, she dried the tears that accompanied the attack with the back of her hand.

"Hermione, dear!" Molly called from below. "I need your help for a moment."

"Coming!" she strained not to let emotion leak into her response. The weariness that that often accompanied her attacks meant she would need another pepper-up potion soon. Either way, she had to get to the bottom of this. The war would only mask her depression for so long. It wouldn't be long before the rest of the Weasleys and the world discovered what truly had left her stricken.

She vowed to start after Fred and Angelina's wedding.

* * *

_*Quotes from Charolotte Bronte's 'Evening Solace'_

_To be continued…_


	3. A Wolf in Man's Clothing

Chapter Three: A Wolf in Man's Clothing

* * *

When Remus was just a lad, his greatest fear saw his parents carting him off to the nearest forest to suffer the full moon alone. The fear grew as the month passed. They never did, of course. Both his mother and father proclaimed to love him no matter what.

From his mother, acceptance and love came easily. Despite being so young, Remus could see the ill-effect the curse had upon his father. Lyall Lupin was initially ashamed of his son after that awful attack. Fully believing the hysteria around werewolves at the time, young Remus did not miss the late night visits to their house from exiled shaman and Healers. They came in the dead of night and spoke with his father in hushed whispers about possible remedies.

When no such remedy was found, for Remus changed the very next moon, his father had sunk into despair. Stuck in a perpetual depression day in and day out, it took nearly two years for his father to come around. It took a toll on his mother; she was left to prepare a safe place for Remus to transform every month. Since they could not visit the local Healer, lest the village discover his condition, she had to tend to painful wounds on her own. She had the inexplicable task of explaining to her son why scars were littered upon his person the next morning he awoke.

It was hard to comprehend at age five why one woke up with bite and scratch marks all over your body. It was difficult to explain why he couldn't be around his mates and neighbors for a few days out of the month. He overheard his mother one afternoon explaining to a childhood friend a 'terrible illness' as the reason he couldn't come out to play one day. Remus had looked on behind the window of his bedroom.

Every time the full moon would approach, Remus would pray when his parents came to get him that would be they would be there when he awoke. After all, he was part-animal, down to his core when it came to it. At his young age, he wouldn't have been offended if Hope and Lyall Lupin had abandoned him. He would later learn that most parents of bitten children did just that.

But they didn't, Merlin bless them. They raised him to the best of their ability despite his curse. They taught Remus his life had value and while wolf would forever be a part of who he was, it would not define the man he would become. He had believed such a lie, in spite of society's prejudices, until the height of the Great Battle.

Breaking his thoughts, Remus looked to the right quickly, the light from the campsite fire painting his face orange-red. His acute hearing had picked up a noise in the distance. As always, it was his turn to take watch as Kingsley and an Auror-counterpart from the French Ministry of Magic, Bagot, slept inside a small tent they had erected in the middle of a vast forest. They were about twenty kilometers, give or take, outside of the city of Rouen, France, tracking the remnants of Fenrir's pack. They kept in contact with both Ministries (the Department for International Cooperation and DMLE, their primary contacts) as they passed through the Wizarding village just outside of Rouen. Any werewolves they caught were immediately sent to the Ministry via Portkey. But this far into the countryside, there wouldn't be any Muggles about so late into the night and suspiciously, Remus peered into the darkness.

There was no further movement to draw his attention. But still, Remus remained on guard. As he looked into the low fire keeping him warm outside his meager robes, he absent-mindedly compared its strength to the great roaring fire of Gryffindor's common room. He was immediately taken back to the best time of his life, hands down.

During those years, Remus held onto the belief that he was stronger than his wolf outside of the full moon. His beast would often whisper to him, tempting offers to let the baser instincts free were a constant companion. But he was a human first and foremost, his mother's reminder stuck between his ears every year before he set off on the Hogwarts Express; he would not give in to the nature of wolves. It was exactly what Wizarding society expected and he went to great lengths not to give them fodder. When the world found out his true nature, they thought him the literal 'wolf in sheep's clothing'.

Sardonically, Remus laughed aloud at this. He rolled his eyes, while Sirius' voice in his head made an ill-advised quip. It had always been easier to laugh with James, Sirius and Peter around; laughter was meant to be shared.

It was times like these that he really missed his friends.

But not even his closest mates at Hogwarts knew the true extent to which he wrestled with his wolf. They knew and experienced the outwards effects of his curse, provided cover for and company during those most difficult days, but he had been too ashamed to share this intimate aspect with his comrades. The fear he would lose the only allies he had locked his mouth. Remus feared they would think him weak; a nearly-adult wizard who wrestled daily with a wolf's desires. He had come close to spilling it all the night of Sirius' unsuccessful prank, the blood lust that had cloaked him frightened Remus more than he realized.

The wolf had almost been set free. Afterwards, his wolf would cruelly taunt him knowing his confidence was shaken. His wolf impressed a mantra relentlessly upon his psyche.

_They only see you as an animal anyway._

_There is no use denying me._

_Mate and hunt. Mate and hunt._

It was a constant battle not to give into the repeating mantras, especially on those dark days leading up to the full moon. But Remus always emerged the victor and each succeeding month brought more confidence. He thought he had nearly wiped out the dueling voice when he met Nymphadora Tonks. She had dug a hole into his impenetrable armor and he found himself gladly on the path every upstanding wizard should. He was to be married, with maybe a family to call his own someday. It wouldn't be perfect, but he would fight to protect the small hope building in his mind's eye.

Remus' short-lived hope was dashed the morning of May 2nd, as he agitatedly stroked the fading fire with his wand. Shockingly, he hadn't lost hope the night they lost Sirius, or the night of the Potters' murder, but Remus did lose hope the night he lost his Dora; he willfully gave into the wolf's pleas for freedom.

In a desperate moment of grief, the barrier snapped. Unchecked, the wolf had been set free. It didn't matter that it was not the full-moon; the psyche of his wolf was out for blood. And the damage he could have caused … Remus soured at the possibility.

And cruelly, his constant companion licked at him. _It's not like you enjoyed it, _his wolf whispered.

Rubbing a weary hand over his bearded face, Remus had finally come to realize the truth of it. He hadn't easily accepted the mission to disappear with Kingsley because he was not ready to face the world without his fiancée. And though a heavy burden, he did not run because of the shame that came with the knowledge of what he did to Hermione Granger. No, Remus had run away from the thought that surrounded him like a stench the morning he carried his fellow Order member, unconscious, through the Entrance Hall. He had enjoyed the pleasure her body offered immensely.

At first, he had been quick to assign the pleasure fully to his wolf, for no sane wizard could get pleasure from so forcefully taking the virginity of a friend, even if she had come willingly.

But it had been _his_ body that had been aroused; it had been his body buried deep within her tight warmth. Remus repressed a shudder at the memory. The taboo feeling was never far from the edges of his memory; nightly, it replayed behind his eyelids. One morning, he had awoken after such a vivid recollection, the evidence of his arousal regrettably all over his night shorts. He had volunteered for the night shift ever since.

The small whimpers she gave as he sunk into her over and over taunted him during the daylight hours. While they tracked their targets, Remus could swear the trail was laced with jasmine and Spring, although there was nothing remotely close to her scent this deep in the wood. Her scent scornfully mocked him. His body was beginning to yearn physically for release, as it did every approaching moon. So when Bagot and Kingsley turned it for the night, he ashamedly found relief at his own hands. Gods, he had become depraved. He sank further into misery after he had _vanished_ the visible stains from his hands. The unseen stains clung to his soul.

As they continued to search the expanse of the forest, Kingsley tried to approach him, thinking Remus was mourning his fiancée and needing an ear, but it was the furthest from the truth. Remus was grieving, but he wasn't grieving a lost love. He was grieving the loss of his humanity, for he had given into his wolf, dishonored his parents' memory and sacrifices, and took pleasure in hurting a dear friend in the worst way. All the while, his wolf had howled in delight.

For while Hermione Granger may have saved the wizard the morning of May 2nd, her sweet sacrifice fractured a carefully constructed barrier between man and wolf.

There was rustling behind the trees again, closer this time and Remus turned his head sharply with the sound, his eyes narrowing in the dark. His hair nearly covered his sight, the need to groom lacking among the wilderness.

Stealthily, Remus rose from the ground; he could feel his wolf stir relentlessly within. There was someone out there, watching him; something not native to these lands as he tasted a putrid scent across his tongue.

His wand slid down his forearm and he exchanged the light of the fire for the darkness of the deep wood. He knew he should have awakened Kingsley and Bagot, but they would never understand the thrill of the hunt, the need to prove that he was stronger, and faster than others around him.

His breath quieted as he crouched down among the low-lying shrubbery and his wolf's mantra thundered behind his ears. It lit his blood on fire. He inhaled again, the scent stronger as he drew closer to his target. The werewolf was young, scared he could tell from his rapid heartbeat, or maybe he was anticipating the fight to come.

_Mate and hunt. Mate and hunt_, his wolf was relentless.

And by Gods if he could not mate the way he wanted, then he would not deny himself the satisfaction of the hunt.

The lone werewolf attacked first; he threw himself at Remus instead of dueling like a wizard, teeth bared and hands clawing. Remus was deliciously surprised. For he would have easily subdued the man with a hex, but he had sought out this physical encounter and re-sheathed his wand. The two met in clash of fists and limbs and they rolled among the trees. Night fowl fluttered away as the two fought on the ground below.

The younger werewolf was weak from many days on the run; there was no pack to protect him. Rapidly, the younger werewolf lost his stamina as the struggle ensued. Remus' heartbeat thumped in time to his blood lust. It wasn't as if he hadn't killed before. Surviving two wars meant one had to be faster than your opponent. It was either kill them or they would get back up and kill you. He had learned that lesson the hard way. There would be no prisoner sent to the Ministry tonight.

The straggler flayed and struggled as dirty fingertips pressed into the soft flesh of the man's throat. There was something to be said for using magic in war. Magic was quick; a flash of green and the life was snatched from the victim's eyes from a safe distance.

Remus' opponent pleaded with his eyes now, the fear bleeding from the corners as the chance to escape shrank. The hands scratching at his wrists slacked in intensity as a blurry quality bled into the man's eyes. Remus kept his grip tight about the man's throat, his own breath shallow. Sweat accumulated between his fingers, but his grip did not abate. He had the strongest compulsion to throw back his head and bale into the night the moment his opponent collapsed back to the earth, his eyes forever frozen in fear. He paused, the thought that there may be others waiting in the darkness halting his instinct.

Remus pushed off the man. Lifting the heavy body by the collar, he dragged the corpse of his would-be attacker across the forest floor, the air chilled with silence.

As Remus emerged from the thick of the woods into glow of their campsite, he wasn't surprised to see Kingsley and Bagot searching for him, wands drawn and at the ready. They froze as they watched a body appear behind him.

"Found one," he huffed, his breathing gradually returned to normal. That was all the explanation he was willing to give before he dropped the carcass of man onto the ground.

His longtime friend stared at him as if he had never seen him before; most likely surprised that Remus had not followed protocol. But Remus did not care.

The wolf had begun to take ahold.

"By chance, do you have any Portkeys on you?" Remus asked roughly. Silently, Kingsley produced one and tossed it his way. Remus caught it. Quickly, he unwrapped the old bottle top and touched it to the man's chest. He stepped back before he could be taken with it.

"Maybe it's time we return back to London?" Kingsley started, unsure.

"But the other wolves …" Remus trailed off, sensing the man's hesitation. "What about them?"

The Auror gave Remus another questionable once-over before replying carefully, "They can wait. But it may do us some good to take a break. We've been on their trail for more than a month. Besides …" Kinglsey waved a recently delivered letter in one hand. "I hear some celebrating may be in order. We've been invited to a wedding. The Weasleys, next week, it seems."

Remus' ears perked up at the same time his wolf sat up in attention. Jasmine and Spring tickled his nose once more.

* * *

Hermione found it easy to smile. It was effortless when surrounded by the glowing couple and their well-wishers. Of course, it helped that best-man George had charmed Fred's wedding band to slowly turn his whole hand purple. For the remainder of the ceremony and the celebration thereafter, Fred proudly shook everyone's hand with purplish-red fingers. Some of who shook his hand thought it diseased and pulled away with the most awkward expression. It was enough to make Hermione laugh outright.

It felt good to laugh with her friends again, as she sipped on a glass of elf-wine Harry had purchased for the entire wedding party. The celebrations smoothed away the war-torn weariness that had etched onto their faces over the past year, glimpses of the young men and women they should have rightfully been peaked through.

Of course, they still felt the absence of friends who would not join them this evening or in future celebrations, but the night remained light as they gathered to toast Angelina and Fred Weasley.

Hours later, they danced under a magically-enlarged tent, the music and wine ever flowing.

Hermione was dancing with a slightly tipsy Arthur Weasley, beaming as he re-counted the tale of Fred and George's birth, when she felt it.

The quickest squeeze and release of her insides; it was as if her entire nervous system had unexplainably pinched. She stumbled at the sensation and lost her footing as Arthur twirled her, but he brushed it off as simply too much imbibing. But she knew it wasn't the influence of libations that had caused her to stumble.

Turning her head a breath before the entry flaps of the tent parted, her eyes widened as she watched Remus Lupin enter the reception alongside Kinglsey Shacklebolt.

_He_ wasn't supposed to be here.

She had heard from Harry that Remus and Kingsley had taken a Ministry convoy across the Strait and onto the continent to round up stragglers from Greyback's pack. Remus hadn't been heard from in over a month. Cowardly, she thought it was for the best.

Out of sight, out of mind. And for a while, it had worked.

Hermione and Ginny lost themselves in the minutiae of wedding planning with Angelina and Molly. While the ache in her chest had not completely subsided, it was easily ignored while she focused on other things.

But now, her chest thundered painfully as she squeezed the free hand holding Arthur's.

"Oh, look!" Arthur exclaimed, the red on his face nearly matching the red on his crown. "Remus and Kingsley made it. Thought the owl wouldn't be able to find them, wherever they were. But intelligent animals, they are!" But his words were drowned under the thudding of her heart.

Remus looked rangier than the last time she saw him, but then, he was not himself the last time she saw him. His hair had not been cut and he looked gaunt from his trek across the continent. His robes were a little worse for wear, but no more than usual. Try as she may, Hermione could not stop from locking eyes with his across the room.

Time and music slowed. Her heart beat did not.

Quickly turning back to face her dance partner, she watched as Arthur's mouth moved, but no sound came forth.

She was going to have a panic attack; she could feel the edges creeping in once more. Squeezing her eyes shut, Arthur spun them, the wine and movements making her lose her center.

He was here. _He was here! _her mind screamed. But Hermione had faced Bellatrix's wand, a fire-breathing dragon, countless death eaters and survived. She could survive this.

Resolved, she forced her eyes open. She would not lose herself to emotion right now. She was an adult when she made her decision. She would handle the repercussions as an adult.

So when the man who had never been far from her thoughts politely tapped Arthur on the shoulder to seamlessly take his place, Hermione bit her bottom lip to keep her mouth from impolitely falling open.

The band conspired in their need to speak as the music slowed to a mid-tempo song. He reached for her and the contact made her heart stitch. Her hands grew clammy in Remus' calloused ones. Hermione scrutinized the dirt under his fingernails, a distraction not to look into his searching eyes.

"How are you, Hermione?" The question reached her ears and she swallowed thickly.

"Fine," she answered rather shortly, focused on his hands. But she never liked to be rude without reason and immediately, she looked up apologetically. "I've been better," Hermione admitted, taking in his appearance. His tired disposition suddenly broke as a half-smile appeared at her admission.

"The story of my life," he responded wistfully. The two moved easier than Hermione imagined given their recent history. But she was not entirely comfortable. Remus kept a light hand respectfully above her waist; it clutched at the thin fabric of her dress every so often. The other practically enveloped her free hand. The rough patches of his palm rubbed against her soft skin. The contrast provided a welcome distraction to focus on. How did he receive them, she wanted to ask. Did his hands always feel this way? Had Crookshanks stolen her tongue tonight? She berated herself for not finding any polite conversation to hold with her former professor.

Finally, she questioned hesitantly in a low voice. "A-are you alright? I heard about your mission." An eye rose from his fingernails to Remus' face, as she tracked the slightest facial tick across his bearded jaw. Was he just as nervous as she?

"I've been better," he mimicked her earlier response. Hermione couldn't help it. A small smile lifted the corner of her mouth. Sighing, Remus continued, "You've never been far from my thoughts these past few weeks, I will admit. That night," his face darkened with unexplained emotion. "I've always loathed this curse, but that night, I truly became a monster for hurting you." Remus inconspicuously looked around, mindful of their current audience. "I am staying at the Weasleys for the night. Perhaps we can speak later … after the party?"

Hermione could only nod politely as their dance came to an end. Ron came to collect her and still her voice would not return. He pulled them towards a receiving line and Hermione feigned cheeriness as she applauded the newlyweds. But her stomach was full of rocks and her throat tasted of sandpaper.

The new husband and wife picked an appropriate sendoff: they boarded a broomstick and took off into the night amid a spectacle of fireworks. The crowd waved them after them, cheerful colors reflecting off their faces.

In two quick beats of her heart, the reception had ended. Guests mingled and spoke with the parents of the bride and groom. Bill and Fleur chatted happily with Harry and Ginny (who had caught Angelina's bouquet), while Ron laughed as George mocked Percy and his date, Audrey from the Ministry. Ron tossed a heavy arm across her shoulders causally.

Could anyone read the apprehension behind her smile? Did they know what conversation had just occurred? By the group's boisterous laughter, Hermione surmised they had no clue what just occurred, nor did they care for the conversation about to come.

While everyone was distracted by the fireworks, Hermione turned to look over Ron's shoulder, her eyes searching and finding Remus' outline as he walked into the long grasses.

Her chest gave a sharp ache and this time the feeling was distinct: she wanted to follow him.

_To be continued…_

* * *

_A/N: Again, thank you all for the feedback! I'm so happy you're interested in the story. As I mentioned earlier, this story will feature a multi-faceted Remus we haven't seen before. Parts of him will be the same … others, not so much. I tried to keep to character, but let's face it; he's losing pieces of himself. Will he get them back? … I haven't decided yet, I rather like him this way. Let me know if you do as well (or not)._

_I plan to drunkenly read your reviews as I celebrate my xx th birthday with a glass (es) of wine :P Cheers! Drinks all around!_


	4. Paramour

Chapter Four: Paramour

* * *

It had been too easy to sneak away after the party died down. Most were too inebriated to keep track of their own shoes, let alone her whereabouts and after kissing Ronald on the cheek, Hermione slipped off to trail behind Remus.

She pulled her shawl closer to her person, the summer night cool under the stars. Thankful she had something to occupy her hands, Hermione wandered close to the boundaries of the Weasley home. She had not yet felt the tingling sensation that informed her she had crossed the boundaries of their property.

There was a brief moment when she thought herself foolish for venturing this far alone. But this was Remus, he wouldn't purposefully hurt her. The war and other things made her paranoid, but she quickly brushed it off.

_Although a part of him has hurt you already_, a dark voice whispered before she could censor it. Hermione had been coping in the aftermath on her own. She thought she was doing just fine before her former professor decided to show tonight. She may have been doing a poor job of it truthfully, but more time was needed before she was completely healed. And Remus Lupin had thrown a wrench in that process the moment he showed with Kingsley earlier that evening.

And why had her body reacted in such a way? It was as if her body had jumped to attention before he actually showed. How had she known he was about to enter the reception tent? Just like how did her feet know to stop right before the trunk of a massive tree on the outskirts of the Weasley's property? She peered strangely at the large oak as if trying to seek an answer within its dense bark.

She stepped past the wards, letting the tingle wash over her bare arms and legs before she said aloud, "I can't tell you how aggravating it's been to have no one to speak to about this." She waited amid the night air as Remus appeared from behind the very tree she had stopped in front of. She bit back the need to frown. "I can't speak to anyone about it without feeling ashamed. It's a wretched feeling."

Remus said nothing to this so Hermione continued, "Something … happened afterwards. Something I can't explain and initially, I thought to research the solution. But _this_ isn't something I can look up easily in a book." And suddenly weeks' worth of pent-up hostility flew forth. "No one's been through what I have as far as I can tell. I couldn't possibly explain this to a Healer without incriminating _you_. Speaking to Mrs. Weasley was out of the question. My parents don't even know I exist, so that's not a possibility. I was completely _fine_ dealing with this in my own way," Hermione lied through her teeth. "And then you have the nerve to show up here tonight." She looked at Remus accusingly, fiery tears clouding her amber eyes. "_Why_ did you show up tonight? You couldn't have just left well enough alone." Emotion clogged her throat.

"Do you want me to leave?" Remus spoke for the first time, appraising her for a reaction. The question was sincere enough.

Hermione bit her lip, willing the tears back. She would not let them fall, not until she said all she had come to say. "What I want is to feel the way I felt before. Yes, we all have all experienced loss throughout this war and I would never presume to imagine what you felt that night." Hermione swallowed as Remus bristled across from her, but continued nonetheless, "But you …**hurt**… me," she finished weakly. She lifted heavy eyes to his. "I would have never expected my greatest torment from this war would come from my own side," she admitted aloud.

His shoulders deflated at her admission. Remus stuffed his hands in his pockets, but not before she saw them flex and curl into fists. He turned away from her, not looking her in the eye. "You should have killed me, Hermione. I would have never done such a thing if I was in my right mind."

Hermione shook her head sadly, tightening her hold about her cotton shawl. "You know as well as I that magical spells have a reduced effect on werewolves. You would've needed twenty of me firing on you at once to stop you. I did the only thing I could."

"The only foolish thing you could!" he spoke harshly, cutting her off unexpectedly. Remus spun back to face her and stepped forward in the moonlight. An arm's length separated them. He stared down at her and she felt woefully undressed in her red party dress. "You would have been better off letting the others take care of me," he stated solemnly.

"You mean by letting the Ministry capture you, or worse, kill you," she answered heatedly.

"Then you would not have to live with the knowledge of what I've done. Of what I'm _still_ doing to you. Hermione, you have to understand, after I learned of Dora's loss, I had nothing else to lose at that point. Nothing would have brought me back. I lost the will to go on," he finished quietly.

"But it worked?" Hermione asked naively to her former professor. She raised a hand up and down his person. "You're here … and you're _you_, right?" she slowly tasted the question.

He laughed bitterly in response. "I don't know what I am anymore," Remus muttered beneath his breath, lowering his head. Taking a breath for courage, he raised his head, looked her directly in the eye and asked the burning question. "Why? Why did you do it?"

Hermione swallowed against a lump in her throat, her heart rate rising sharply. "I told you why."

"Naïve, little girl," he scolded her mildly and took a step towards her. She stepped back, keeping the same distance between them. "I asked you earlier, do you want me to leave?"

Hermione couldn't find her voice, but shook her head in the negative. How easy it would be to banish him from her sight; he seemed willing enough and if she could speak the words, perhaps then both of their problems would be solved. But she was, if not anything, a stubborn witch.

"I'm not scared of you. Should I be?" Hermione stuck her chin out for confidence and queerly, the older wizard chuckled. He rubbed a hand against the back of his neck.

"Perhaps, it would better suit you to find someone else to speak to." He dismissed her. "I would not blame you if you did and would accept any consequences that may stem from it."

Hermione dropped her chin, perplexed by his sudden change in mood. "You've already facing so much as it is. Even with Voldemort defeated, prejudices have been hard to cast aside in our world. No matter my difficulties stemming from our … encounter, it would be unfair of me to add more to your plate, especially since I … I was willing," she stubbornly finished.

Remus visibly flinched at her 'willingness'. No one was willing for what she had gone through, even if she couldn't admit it, he could. "Don't be a martyr, Hermione. I'm not a house-elf. I'm dangerous. It would best you remember that." He was growing weary of their discussion, she could tell.

But Hermione persisted, hesitating on the decision to grab his arm. At the last moment, she decided against it. "You're not _dangerous_, Remus. You were caught in a moment of grief. It's happened to us all over the past year."

Both fell silent, lost in remembrance of what they had lost. But even in the middle of death and pain, beautiful things could be found.

Quickly, Hermione picked up the conversation again, not yet comfortable with the silence between them. Twiddling with the frayed ends of her shawl, she added, "And even if I must admit how painful, and not to mention how incredibly awkward this conversation has been, I _am_ grateful I can talk about this with you."

Remus gave a cautious smile and they stood shoulder to shoulder watching the moon hung high overhead. The half-moon brought differing feelings for them both. Remus stood, resentful towards the pale orb, the bane of his existence; Hermione thought it serene and beautiful.

"Although I have to admit…" she trailed off uncomfortably.

"What is it?" Remus encouraged from beside her.

"Why does it hurt? Where you bit me … it aches sometimes." Hermione absentmindedly rubbed the twinge away from between her ribs. She did not see Remus' gaze linger just above the top of her dress.

"What do you mean, 'ache'?" Remus ventured, intrigued. Surely, he remembered the bite he had left on her left breast as his wolf had climaxed inside her.

"It's healed somewhat, but just so," Hermione mused to herself, her eyes lost to the sight above. "I've had a terrible time trying to hide it from Ginny. We share the same room, you know," she rambled, searching the stars overhead for familiar constellations. "Sometimes, it feels like it's literally burning from within. It was particularly bad a few days ago at the full moon. I felt this great longing and sadness. It wasn't mine, but I could feel it just the same." Her head dropped back down, a penseive look scrunching her face.

_That_ had Remus raising his brows. Slowly, she turned to face him. Maybe he did not remember the moment at all judging from the look of horror on his face.

"Is something the matter?" Hermione probed, disturbed at the sheet of white Remus' face had become.

Instead, Remus just stared at her. His gaze flitted nervously from her neckline to her eyes. His own narrowed as if coming to a decision. He took an experimental another step towards her; she immediately took one in the opposite direction. Nervous at his shift in mood, Hermione sidestepped him again when he took another step closer. Her heartbeat, once calm and manageable, struck up a fierce tempo.

"Remus…?"

There was no answer.

"Professor?"

Remus had backed Hermione to a tree and she had one fleeting moment to berate herself for so foolishly trusting this man once more. She was trapped.

Hermione felt small; a finger's width separated him from her. She could pick out the individual reddish whiskers across his neck as he inhaled and exhaled through his nose.

Breathlessly, she asked, "What are-?"

"What do you feel now, Hermione?" Remus' eyes searched her face frantically. "Quickly, do not think about it, just answer me," he ordered swiftly. The intensity drew her gaze from the hand that hovered just above her head on the tree back to his stern eyes. She could have sworn she saw a flash of yellow in its depths.

Hermione closed her eyes, and swam through a torrent of emotions. Every emotion under the sun fluttered through her at that moment and she could have listed them all as true. Fear, confusion, anxiety, it was all there.

But starkly against them all, one thudded in time to her wildly beating heart. It warmed her arteries frozen with fear and made her lips moisten.

Blinking open frightened eyes, she answered him honestly; the captivatingly strong emotion almost compelled her to grab the lapels of his jacket.

"Lust," she whispered in fear.

* * *

Remus swore strongly. Only an inch away from Hermione's face, his witch twitched in fear. He was rarely one to curse aloud, but this was damning indeed.

Internally, his wolf howled in delight.

He had the object of his desire backed against a tree; her perfume fused to his clothing. The hand above her head clawed into the tree bark. He was faintly aware of the sharp pain radiating from his fingertips. He didn't care that he pulled back his fingernails as he dug them into the bark.

What had his wolf _done_ to her?

Remus searched her eyes and knew her to be telling the truth. He had dim recollection of the actual act, choosing to close his mind off to his wolf's dark desires while lost to the moment. But once his wolf's needs were sated, Remus had come to slowly: a broken girl lay beneath him.

Had he truly forgotten the mark he had left upon her? His wolf hadn't and abruptly, he pulled on the link to his _paramour_ experimentally.

The witch closed her eyes and gasped. It was a delectable sound to his ears. The sweetest music.

Remus pulled away from Hermione sharply. He shook his head in disbelief, the moonlight bright upon both their heads. "You have to forgive me," he begged in a reverent whisper, his heartbeat beginning to climb.

Her eyes opened once more, twin orbs full of innocence. Gods, he would ruin her. "What is it?" Hermione asked desperately. "What does it mean?" When he didn't answer straightaway, she implored, "What do you know?"

Remus gave a dejected smile. All the while, his wolf leapt for joy. "I've haven't turned you into a werewolf, Hermione, as I imagine you've gathered," Remus began slowly, sensing her apprehension. Still, he calmly braced himself for the anger he knew to be coming. "I haven't marked you as my mate, either."

Desperation made her beg. "Please. Then, what is it?"

He looked up at the treetops, down to the ground, anywhere to avoid her piercing gaze. "Sometimes, in the height of emotion, a werewolf can mark a human of his choosing as their …" Remus stumbled over the terminology. "Werewolves call it a _paramour_." He waited for the inevitable fallout as she processed what he said.

Hermione's eyes widened and amber eyes filled with disbelief. "W-what?" she gasped softly.

Remus hesitantly took a step forward. Whether from shock or acceptance, Hermione did not move. But like all who knew her, he knew of her intelligence. He knew she was confirming the information he spoke aloud in her own mind. "The feelings you've felt. They are mine. They are multiplied from the mark that sits below your heart."

"No!" She shook her head, sending waves of curls defiantly across her neck. Her left hand flew protectively to her chest and covered the unseen mark he knew lay beneath her robes.

But Remus pressed, "Had I known, I would have told you before I left for France. You must believe me."

Hermione froze and leaned against the tree for support; her chest rose and fell in quick breaths. Vaguely, he could hear her muttering something to herself. He reached forward to stroke her arm, but she smacked his hand away.

"Get your hands off of me! I've gave something I can never get back and this is how you've repaid me. How am I supposed to trust you?" she seethed through clenched teeth, her temper mounting.

His normally calm demeanor had deteriorated. "As if I would ever purposefully do this to you? The divide between animal and man is a complex one-"

But Hermione was beyond hearing. "You mean to tell me what I've been feeling this entire time … have been your feelings?!" She confirmed incredulously.

Remus ran a weary hand through sandy brown hair. "I didn't recognize it until this moment, I swear! A bite such as … _that_ should not ache. When you mentioned your reception to feelings not of your own volition, I suspected what it was. "

"So you would have me come begging, then! Once wasn't enough!" Angry tears burst from her eyes.

"Hermione, please!" Remus roared and she reared back and slapped him hard across the face. Even though his skin burned from the contact, her barb cut deeper than any physical blow. He bit his bottom lip in anger, tasting the blood she had spilled. He inhaled harshly through his nostrils.

She accused indignantly, "_You_ know! You know what this means! I'll never have another lover. I'll never be … oh my God. Ron … oh my God …" She stumbled back and Remus did not care if she struck him again. He did not want her to face her newfound realities alone as he reached forward to comfort her. But she blocked his access to her person. "Stay away from me," she growled.

He paused at her command and she turned abruptly towards the way she came, her shawl tight in one fist. Apparently their conversation was over.

_It's not like she can escape you now anyway_, his wolf teased._ She'll be back. You made sure of it._ His wolf clucked at him in mischief and Remus screwed his eyes tight, the beginnings of a massive headache beginning to build.

He sat where he was amid the long grass, pinching the bridge of his nose. The situation had suddenly gone from difficult to infinitely worse.

Before werewolves found a mate which they would take for life, powerful ones could create _paramours_ if they so desired. Remus had first encountered the term _paramours_ during his travels with a pack across the Americas some years ago. Male wolves who had not yet found a mate tended to get a bit feisty before the full moon and to keep members of their pack from running astray and attacking local villagers; a mark was established, effectively creating a _paramour_. The recipient had to be willing and in return, 'available' to her _Ulfric _anytime he called. Even if the _Ulfric_ never called her, the recipient of the _paramouric_ mark would always feel a residual longing to be close to their _Ulfric. _

And Hermione's sweet offering in the Forbidden Forest had been the catalyst to Remus' newfound dilemma.

Unbeknownst to him, Remus had designated Hermione as his _paramour_. It did not encompass the same properties as a 'mate' in the sense of a term. He could take on others lovers if he wished. And while he could take other lovers, she could not physically be with another without feeling an unpleasant sensation.

In fact, he had never heard of _paramours_ being with another besides their _Ulfric_. Remus recalled a particular conversation with a raven-haired Peruvian werewolf during his time with her pack. She had described how felt complete she felt when in the presence of her _Ulfric_. It had been a lovely honor, she believed and the physical compulsion between them both had left Remus blushing afterwards.

Remus doubted Hermione would see it the same way.

Only if he found a mate, could his _paramour_ be released. But Dora had been Remus' one true mate in this world and now, she was gone. Unless the universe sent another his way, Hermione would forever be tied to his emotions, his call, and his yearnings.

Dropping his forehead into his hands, Remus sighed. Hermione would never be rid of him now. She would only be able to find release with him; she would curse him to Hades and back, but her body would be his to crudely use and satisfy with any of his wants or needs. And she would have no choice but to obey.

_Looks like you got exactly what you wanted, _his wolf chuckled darkly within. _You're welcome._

Remus had considered leaving in the morning but now, he would have to find a reason to inform Kingsley why he would not be able to join him on Ministry missions across the Strait any longer.

Looking towards the Burrow, still alight with celebration, Remus thought of a brunette witch in need of more help than she was willing to admit.

_To be continued..._

* * *

_AN: Thank you so much for all your reviews/favorites/alerts! They push me to write more for you all. I hope you enjoyed this chapter as this sets the stage for what our duo will be dealing with as an owl bearing the crest of Hogwarts appears next chapter!_


	5. Plans

Chapter Five: Plans

* * *

Groaning, Hermione awoke to a swath of fabric and pulled her pillow off her face, the thick taste of cotton drying her mouth. She had not imbibed much at the reception, so there was one confusing moment to remember when she had consumed so much alcohol. Right, she thought despondently as she wearily rubbed a hand against her eyes.

She had tried and failed to drown the crushing reality she had learned the night before. Ginny had been all too happy to share her portion of elf-wine and champagne with her friend. With every sip, Hermione tried to mute the penetrating sadness that was not her own. With her glass raised, she toasted her cares away, hoping it would take the damning facts with it.

Clearly, it had not worked.

What was she to do? Endless scenarios played in her mind and none of them were acceptable. She had been lured into a bond without her knowledge; she felt deceived. Betrayed by someone she thought a friend.

The rational part of her mind told her she was being unreasonable. Remus clearly had no intentions of ever binding her to him in such a way. If the sadness that still cocooned around her heart was any indication, he felt as horrible as she did at the moment.

But she refused to dwell on his sadness, this connection something she did not ask for nor want. Perhaps, she could find a way to sever their bond. What had he called it?

A _paramour_. Was she really someone's _paramour_? She toyed with the idea hazily in her mind.

"Wake up, Hermione!" Ginny's bright voice interrupted further thoughts on the matter. The red-head called through the room and peaked from behind the bedroom door. "I've never seen you have such a lie-in before," the youngest Weasley laughed, her footsteps approaching lightly towards Hermione's bed.

"Go away," Hermione mumbled half-heartedly, pulling the pillow back over her face. Godric, just speaking make her temples ache.

Ginny pulled the pillow back. Hermione groaned again as Ginny magicked the curtains open, sunlight promptly invaded her eyes. Ginny made a surprised face as she pushed the pillow playfully back over Hermione's head. "Never mind what I said. Continue to hide," she insisted with a chuckle. Hermione's hair was always a sight in the morning.

Hermione groaned under the pillow and though muffled through the fabric, replied, "Just leave a pepper-up potion by the bed. I don't plan on getting up at all today."

Ginny laughed outright, placing the corked bottle on the short nightstand. "Well, you're lucky I was able to sneak some off my brother. Poor Ron. He's been green all morning. I tried telling him he was drinking too much but of course, he never listens. You've should have seen him this morning, 'Mione. I didn't think I lived to see the day Ron would ever turn down food!"

The thought of food had Hermione going green around the edges. Hermione pushed the pillow off her face, her eyes shut; she was not ready to let the sunlight in. "Gin, just please hand me the potion and don't mention food ever again."

"Rough night?" Ginny asked playfully. Silence was her response and Hermione could hear the mood subtly change in her friend's tone. "You look awful. And not in a 'I-had-too-much-to-drink' way, either," Ginny observed. "Have … have you been crying?" she ventured, surprised.

Hermione opened what was sure to be red-rimmed eyes. "I feel as awful as I look," she said forlornly, failing to stop the tears from gathering at the corners of her eyes.

"Hermione? What's happened?" Sitting down on the bed, the witch pulled a compliant Hermione into a tight hug. "Is it my brother? I swear, if he's done –" The beginnings of a punishment to come seeped into her voice.

Hermione laid her head on Ginny's shoulder struggling not to cry. She had done too much of that last night. "No! No, it's nothing to do with Ron. It's…" Hermione thought quickly. Remus _did_ say she should speak with others about this, but she was too embarrassed to tell the truth. Especially since it now entailed a bond she knew nothing about. Perhaps it would be better to wait until she could research the bond on her own. Then she would confide in her friend. For now, a partial lie would have to do. "I was thinking of my parents last night. Your entire family, everyone really, has so much to celebrate after such loss. And seeing everyone so happy for once …" she trailed off lamely, pulling back from Ginny's embrace.

Ginny pulled Hermione back in for a quick hug. "Of course the wedding would make you think of your Mum and Dad. I'm so sorry, I didn't notice at all last night." She released her and gave her shoulders a reaffirming squeeze.

"Well, it was your brother's wedding, after all. I'm sure you had other duties to attend to." Hermione sniffled loudly, taking a few of the tissues Ginny had summoned from across the room. Hermione tried valiantly not to think of her own wedding to a certain red-headed Weasley. It would likely never come true now. Particularly if he knew the truth.

"Still doesn't mean I ignore my friend when she's upset." Ginny frowned at herself. "Harry's been seeing this specialty Healer at St. Mungo's, y'know? Something about post-traumatic whatever-it's-called." They told him it would be a while before any of us really returned to normal … with everything." Ginny fiddled with edges of the frayed bedding. "She said random episodes of depression were normal and to be expected," she explained helpfully.

Except this lingering depression Hermione was drowning in wasn't entirely her own. She bet Harry's Healer never mentioned anything about that. "What did she suggest to counter it?" Hermione nonchalantly asked, downing the pepper-up potion with a shudder.

"Oh, normal things. Whatever witches and wizards our age typically do," she replied sarcastically. "The key is to go easy on ourselves." Hermione gathered that fighting in a war was not typical teenaged behavior.

"And how exactly does one do that?" Hermione asked.

"Beats me. I'm not the Healer. Speak to Harry if you want more specifics."

"Well, I'm glad he's talking to someone," Hermione replied as she lifted her wrinkled party dress over her head, grateful to be out of the ruined frock. Catching Ginny's dejected look, Hermione rushed after she hastily pulled on a more comfortable top. "It's not a bad thing that Harry's speaking with a Healer, Gin. The fact that he's shared these things with you means he trusts you a lot. A Healer who specializes in these things would best know how to circumvent the difficulties Harry's been through and the emotions stemming from it."

Ginny stood from the bed abruptly and smiled falsely. "Oh, I know. I mean, it's just that my boyfriend can share these things with a complete stranger, but the possibility of sharing with someone close to him, someone who's been through it all with him is too far-fetched. It's just … surreal sometimes, y'know?"

Hermione pursued her lips and tried not to say much more. For all her part in the war, Hermione did not think Ginny had been 'through it all' with Harry, but chose to remain mum on that front. "It's understandable. Thanks for the potion, I'm feeling a bit better."

The sincerity of Ginny's smile reached her eyes. "Great! You've missed breakfast and lunch, but I'm sure we can scrounge up some sandwiches or a pot of coffee. Your hair…" Ginny watched as Hermione haphazardly pulled her curls up into a bun and bit back a grin. "… looks fine! Come on, let's go." She tugged at the older witch.

Hermione slowly descended the flights of stairs towards the Weasley's family kitchen. The pepper-up potion made it so all the lingering smells from Molly's lunch didn't make her keel over, but she would need something on her stomach. Even if the idea of food sent her stomach right side up.

Her heart stitched as she followed behind Ginny in the kitchen. Ron and Harry lounged easily at the table, their conversation light. George had joined them as well. The joy of last night's celebration bled over it seemed and in spite of their collective hangovers, the group continued as if nothing had happened. They certainly hadn't discovered that a werewolf that had magically bound them to be at-will lover last night.

"George's a bit down now that Fred's off. Harry and Ron won't stop teasing him," Ginny offered to Hermione's ear as the witches neared the table. Hermione sat stiffly next to Ron, who smiled at her in greeting. He was still slightly pale, but gave her a brilliant smile and kiss to the forehead. Her heart sank again.

"Mornin' or should I say afternoon? Sleep alright?" Ron waggled his brows at her suggestively.

How could she ever explain to him, to them all, what had occurred last night? "Too much celebrating, I suppose," she responded sullenly, forcing a firm smile to reinforce that she was alright.

Ginny laughed as she picked up a sandwich. "I've never seen you knock back so many glasses in one setting, 'Mione. You were going for the record back there."

_Or just trying to escape your new station in life,_ a sinister thought entered her head. Hermione struggled to chortle along with the rest of them. "Right. So, how are you holding up George?" she asked as she poured herself a cup of coffee, adeptly steering the conversation back to lone twin.

They spoke a bit about business at Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes and the progress of clean-up in Diagon Alley. George cheerfully informed them that the Alley would be opened soon and both he and Fred fully intended to run the store with Angelina after they returned from their honeymoon.

Hermione was in the middle of lifting her mug to her to her mouth when her hand shook, unexpectedly startled. Heat radiated from her chest and it wasn't from embarrassment or the heat-insulating kitchen. Forebodingly, she looked up as Remus entered the room with Molly.

Refusing to make eye contact with the wizard, she quickly lowered her gaze to the black liquid inside her mug and tried to steady her breathing. She couldn't draw attention to herself. While pretending to be engaged in what her boyfriend was speaking about with Harry, her heart hammered behind her chest cavity. Sneaking glances as he moved about the kitchen, Hermione could feel heat begin to spread over her neck and ears. But Remus moved out of her peripheral and she lost sight of him as he moved behind her and Ron, pulling dishes from cabinets unseen.

Scattered "Hey Remus" and "Good afternoon's" greeted the werewolf. From what little she had observed, it wasn't hard to guess that he had seen little sleep as well. Hermione chose not to dwell on the reason why. Immaturely, she was somewhat pleased he hadn't slept well either.

Nervously, she fiddled with the handle of her mug, the tear in her jeans at her knee, anything to keep her hands busy. All the while her heartbeat stuck up a frightening tattoo as Remus continued to rummage for food behind her. Aside from his reply and salutation to the group of young wizards, Remus steadily ignored the group's conversation, her included. Hermione surmised he wasn't looking to out their predicament to everyone any more than she was.

Replaying their conversation from the night before, she resolved to find her way to the library as soon as there was a moment.

The mug that had been partly lifted to her lips slammed down to the wooden surface as she started. Tepid coffee sloshed all over her hand. "Don't!" she yelped and nearly jumped off the bench at the contact. Someone had placed a gentle, warm hand on her shoulder. Her eyes stared straight ahead, focusing on a spot above Harry's shoulder; she refused to look at who touched her.

"What's gotten into you, 'Mione?" Ron noticed her obvious skittishness, his playful mood sliding slowly off his face. He removed his hand from her shoulder and back to his lap as Harry and the others regarded her. Oh, it was just Ron.

Great, she had drawn their attention and now felt the weight of their eyes upon her. With two erratic beats of her heart, she feared they_ knew!_

Remus had gone still behind her as well and the room patiently waited for an explanation behind her outburst.

She shook her head, wishing she had opted to let her hair hang free instead of pulling it up; she was absolutely positive the entire room could see the blush staining her neck. "Sorry," she spoke quietly. "I'm not feeling well," she offered lamely, standing up from the table. "I need to go." Gods, that sounded so pathetic in her mind, so she wasn't surprised to see Ron following behind her.

"What's with you?" he asked when they were alone.

How could she tell him? Gryffindors were supposed to be brave, but in that moment, staring into her boyfriend's blue eyes, she could only lie.

"I've been thinking a lot about my parents lately," she began and supposed that was only a partial lie. She _had_ been thinking about them these past few weeks. "I was speaking with Ginny earlier. With the wedding and all, I've been thinking about them more and more in Australia."

"Okay," Ron nodded.

She crossed her arms, afraid he would be able to suss out the tremors in her hands. "I just zoned out back there. Forgive me."

Ron shrugged, a half-smile on his face. "Believe me, you're not the only one who zones out every now again. You need to go easy on yourself, love." He patted a hand on her shoulder affectionately.

Her heart froze in her stomach at the term of endearment. Looking down at the tips of her trainers, Hermione nodded, blinking the tears away furiously before rising to meet Ron's concerned glare. "I want to go to Grimmauld and see what I can find out about memory charms. I'm pretty sure I know what to do to reverse the charm, but I want to be sure."

Ron smiled at the familiar witch from Hogwarts peeking through. "Of course, do you want me and Harry to come with you?" He was offering because he cared, but because she knew them oh-so well, she replied in the negative.

"Thanks, but you don't have to. It will probably take a while. I'm going to grab a few things from upstairs, then I'll Apparate over. Tell Harry for me?" She started moving towards the stairs.

As soon as Ron agreed, Hermione fled to her room, grabbed her wand and a light jacket ready to Apparate to Grimmauld Place. Only she wasn't going to research lifting memory charms. She was going to find everything she could about werewolves and _paramours_.

* * *

Hermione returned to the Burrow late in the evening, a bundle of parchment and notes under one arm. Time always passed quickly for her whenever lost in the stacks of a library and her time spent in the Black family library was no different. She poured through varying texts on magical creatures, hoping against hope to come across something that negated with Remus had told her last night.

Although she tried not to dwell on it, she could steadily feel, what she now knew to be, Remus' emotions during her entire stay at the former headquarters for the Order. Light strands of sadness and longing pulled at her heartstrings, but she willfully ignored it.

Focusing back on the texts before her, she found plenty on what it meant to be mated to a werewolf and to be honest, it sounded a truly wonderful thing. She imagined briefly if she and Ron were destined to find one another, born exclusively for the other, with a love so strong and revered. A bond between mates seemed unrivaled in every way. It was a nice fantasy for sure.

As soon as she set to leave, a decided happiness accompanied her impending arrival. She squashed the feeling flat.

Now staring at the red front door of the Burrow, she thought it all rubbish, a particularly nasty end of a raw deal. _Paramours_ were nothing but slaves to their _Ulfric's_ (was Remus her _Ulfric_ now?) will, playthings to be used physically then cast aside when the moment had passed. She frowned, willing herself not to cry.

All was not lost and she refused to give up after one day's research. There were more libraries, more ancient texts she could scour through. She would pour through them all as if studying for her never-taken N.E.W.T.s until she had found an answer.

Steeling herself, Hermione pushed open the door to find the Burrow alight with activity. Two owls had just left through an open window and she spotted letters in the hands of Harry, Ron, and Ginny. In fact, Ginny carried two in her hand and now spotted, the red head bounced excitedly over towards Hermione.

"You have to read this! It just came a few minutes ago. Can you believe it?" the youngest Weasley asked eagerly.

Her curiosity thoroughly peaked, Hermione took the piece of parchment from Ginny's waiting hand. Sliding her notes on _paramours_ into her back pocket, she read silently.

_Dear Miss Granger,_

_This letter is to inform you that Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry will open and resume classes September 1__st__, 1998. I am pleased to relay that our school has been completely refurbished and is once again ready to receive students. It is our hope to impart a sound magical education in light of our inability to do so last year._

_Due to uncontrollable events and poor management at Hogwarts last year, many were not able to receive a proper education. After discussion with newly-installed school governors, we are extending the opportunity for those who wish to return to Hogwarts and complete their education the opportunity to do so. _

_Those who wish to repeat their seventh year will be given the opportunity to do so as well._

_Many of you fought valiantly in the Second Great War, and as such, will be treated as the of-age witches and wizards you have proven to be. While special privileges will be granted to those who wish to return, I expect your full dedication and commitment towards the completion of your magical education._

_Please send me your response no later than 31 July. The list of school texts for the coming year will be sent directly, once I have heard back regarding your decision._

_Hogwarts looks forward to welcoming all of you home._

_Sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall_

_Headmistress_

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

"Can you believe it?" Ginny pulled Hermione further out of the doorway. "Harry and Ron got one too. I wonder if the others did?" she wondered aloud, her eyes far away in thought.

"This is … certainly an interesting development," Hermione muttered as she read and re-read the missive again. She dropped the note and observed her friends' expressions.

Harry looked surprised, maybe a little stunned. Ron was flustered.

"Honestly, we spent a year fighting Death Eaters and our reward is to go _back_ to Hogwarts?!" He thrust his letter at her as she neared his side. "Harry, please tell me you aren't considering this!"

Harry was slow to respond, but suddenly a smile lit his features. "And why not, I think a bit of normalcy is well deserved, don't you? It would be nice to go through a year properly without the threat of Voldemort."

Ron looked the same shade of green as he did that morning. "But it's … it's homework and essays and N.E.W.T.s."

Molly interjected. "And I expect you to pass all your N.E.W.T.s, Ronald. It's bad enough your brothers dropped out before you. At least my two youngest will properly graduate and obtain respectable careers." She preened at George, who stood by smirking. Full of pride, Molly pulled Ginny into a hug. "You dears certainly deserve it."

"Come on, Ron. It's also Quidditch as well. It'll be fun," Harry put forth.

Ron sulked and turned towards his girlfriend. "Well, at least I already know what your answer is."

But to everyone's surprise Hermione could only shrug her shoulders and announce that she would 'think about it'. Chatter she wasn't yet ready to be a part of dwindled the rest of the evening as Ginny received owls from her friends confirming they had received Professor McGonagall's letter as well. It seemed all but certain that Ginny was going to attend in the fall. She seemed very eager for a normal year, ideally with the boy-who-lived-and-conquered on her arm.

Ron had not made up his mind, but Hermione figured with goading from his mother and Harry's decision to return, he would join his friend as well. Harry still looked on the fence and sat back on the worn sofa as Ginny did most of the talking and planning for the both of them.

It was overwhelming to be sure, but her earlier conversation with Ginny rang in her ears. Didn't she mention something about 'doing what normal teenagers do' as a way of coping? Her old self would have jumped at the chance to go back to school, enthusiastically sent her reply to Professor McGonagall that night in fact. Hogwarts was her home and she would flourish in her 'true' seventh year without undue worry or needing to save her friends from certain peril. The thought had merit.

But the bunch of parchment from her research at Grimmauld crunched in her back pocket. Maybe she could complete more of her research at Hogwarts' expansive library? McGonagall did mention 'special privileges' for those returning and Hermione greedily thought of access to the restricted section of Hogwarts' library.

Later she found herself alone, perched on the edge of the sofa in the now quiet living room pondering the pros and cons when a voice startled her from her thoughts.

"I heard some interesting news came in the post today. Is it true?" Of course, Remus was still here, but she had been too caught in her thoughts to notice his presence. She gathered he was referring to the hub-bub early that night, of which, he had been notably absent from.

Hermione looked out the opened window, relishing the summer night. She refused to meet his stare. Her trust with him had been fractured. "It is. They're re-opening Hogwarts this fall. We've been given the chance to complete our seventh year, properly. Ginny can also re-do her year if she chooses. Which it seems, she has."

Remus continued to stare at her. She didn't have to see it to know it to be true.

"Hermione, do you intend to return back to Hogwarts?"

Hermione crossed her arms, eyes on the night sky. "I hadn't made a decision in the matter, but I think the idea's agreeable," she answered non-committedly.

"Do you think it wise putting so much distance between us … given our circumstances?"

Still not looking at him, her voice rose, incensed. "If you're implying that I lie around and wait around for–"

Remus interrupted her sternly. "Keep your voice down, you'll alert the others."

In a lower voice, she continued just as sharply. Her eyes narrowed dangerously as she swung to face him for the first time. "I hope you weren't expecting me to willfully become your _paramour_. _I_ make my own decisions, not you, and not some magical bond. And if I choose to return to Scotland in the fall, then I will. And not you or your wolf will stop me," she finished strongly.

Remus, wisely, did not move forward. "I'm not trying to stop you. But the fact remains. And seeing how no one has assaulted me or come to arrest me, I'm assuming you haven't told anyone of our … arrangement."

"There is no _arrangement_ between us," Hermione hissed, affronted.

"The full moon is nearing, Hermione. Say that to me again in nearly a week."

Hermione smirked coldly and turned back for the open window. "I'm going to visit my parents in Australia next week. I could care less if the full moon approaches." She sounded emotionless, but truthfully, she wanted it to hurt a little.

"Ow!" A sharp pain had her rubbing her chest. She didn't know how much it would hurt the werewolf, but her intentional barb ended up wounding herself. "Look," she backtracked, still rubbing at the sore spot. "I'm sorry, but we don't have to make this harder than need be. I can be willing to move on and forget this, but that means you have to as well. _Paramour_ bond or not, there is always a way to nullify these types of things. You said so yourself, I'm not your mate so –" She started to stand up from the edge of the couch, but her legs had temporarily fallen asleep.

Her balance lost, Hermione tilted and without warning found an arm around her middle, the other crossed her back and pulled her in close. She hadn't even seen him move and now she peered into dark brown eyes.

Remus' breath was sweet across her face; he smelt of chocolate as fingers massaged into her shoulder blades. "You may not be my mate, but that mark beneath your bra says you are mine," Remus whispered into her ear, his whiskers tickling the side of her face.

He impressed his need onto her through their bond and Hermione sagged against his arms. He held her up perfectly.

Sighing, she relaxed as the wolf inhaled her hair and neck, his arms tightening slowly about her person. Strong fingers bunched up her clothes and she struggled feebly in his arms. "Don't fret, sweetheart, I won't force myself on you ever again," he spoke into her neck. "There is no need for it."

He suddenly released her and she gasped at the loss of support holding her upright. She tumbled backwards onto the couch. At a loss for words, she could only breathe to steady her heart and rubbed her legs together against the uncomfortable wetness that had gathered there.

Remus stood over her as she lay on the couch. "This magic can't be nullified and try as you may, it can't be ignored."

Broken of the spell, she icily informed him, "Forcing your will upon me is the same thing as forcing yourself physically. It is no different in my eyes," she hissed at him from the couch.

Dangerously, he lowered to a squat beside the couch, eye level with her. Something akin to irritation played behind his eyes. After a tense moment, he replied tersely, "Go to Australia next week. But know that I would never wish any pain upon you ever again." He lifted from the ground. "It seems my wolf has plans for you, Ms. Granger."

She watched him move into the dark of the house amid a torrent of emotions. Just then, the threat of going Scotland, or even Australia, didn't seem far enough for her. His wolf had plans, he had said. But what had her leaping from the couch in fear was the morbid curiosity at what those plans entailed.

* * *

_To be continued..._

_A/N: Please review! I love hearing what you think and about where we're headed! Much love to you all for the alerts, favorites and reviews! xx_


	6. Arrangements

_A/N: Since it's open to interpretation in the books, in this story, Lavender Brown does __**not**__ die at the Final Battle on May 2__nd__, 1998. Now … enjoy!_

* * *

Chapter Six: Arrangements

Remus was changing into someone he didn't recognize. The feel of Hermione's warm body close to his almost made him his restraint snap. She fit perfectly within his arms; he could feel the precise moment she gave into their bond. If he had such an inclination, it would have been too easy to take what he wanted.

But Remus had given her his word. And wolf or no, he was still a man of his word.

Tunneling the frustration as he made his way through the Burrow, Remus slammed the door to Percy Weasley's old room and perched his fists high on the door. _Steady_, he cautioned to himself. He had already hurt Hermione once; he would not willingly do it again.

But it seemed there was no line his wolf wouldn't cross to be with his _paramour_ again. Remus squeezed his eyes shut as the war within raged; thinking back, he recalled a dangerous moment in their earlier conversation.

Hermione had nearly insulted him. The tenuous hold over his wolf was slipping as he tried to temper the ire rising along his spine. How dare she accuse that he would force her against her will again, especially after the torment of their first encounter.

_But you almost did just then, didn't you?_ A voice whispered behind his eyelids.

Remus pressed his head against the cool, stiff surface of the bedroom door. He had not meant to push his arousal through their bond to her; he only wished her to see reason. He had no more control over the full moon than she had over the weather. She had riled herself up and he wanted to calm her down. Remus did not expect the visceral reaction when she confirmed that she was not his mate, even if he had said so himself the night previous. It was as if something had snapped within him.

His wolf had demanded submission from his _paramour_.

Right then.

Images on her submitting to him on her hands and knees, her pert arse open for only him…

Merlin, this was becoming too much as he halted that damning line of thought.

The proximity of the full moon, Hermione's sweet scent, her fiery temperament, it was all beginning to grate on him. Remus seriously questioned the condition of his mental health.

Perhaps, it was for the best that she left for Australia next week. He had been hesitant to let her go, this bond between them was so tentative and new, but the brunette witch had made up her mind. She seemed defiant on putting distance between them. And while he wasn't keen on the idea, particularly so close to the full moon, he could do nothing to compel her to stay.

_You've frightened the young witch, Remus_, his wolf mocked him. _She'll never approach you again_, _willingly_.

Remus could not deny that his wolf had a point, but …

"That was your doing, not mine," he whispered to himself as if in a prayer. He laid his forehead against the door and pondered his sanity once more.

_If you say so. Our paramour is strong-willed, but she __**was**__ aroused for us_, his wolf allured inside his mind and Remus groaned against the door. While he hadn't figure out the dynamics of such a bond, it had been hard to ignore Hermione's enticing scent of arousal through such light fabric. Pushing his head further into the door, Remus tried to focus on the dim pain at his temple rather than the way her body fit, so small and perfect against his taller frame.

Guilt began to overtake him. What was wrong with him?

He was now making her even more uncomfortable, since he knew she could identify the attraction he held for her. And he figured with the approaching moon that this 'uncomfortable-ness' would only grow.

How he wished he was wrong.

Hermione left the next morning well before anyone in the house could properly say goodbye. Remus knew he was the reason for her swift departure, but he would keep that to himself as he intermingled with the Weasleys for breakfast. Left with not much else to do since he was, again, unemployed and not on Ministry business, Remus set out to make re-acquaintances with those he could in the Wizarding World.

He had been shocked to learn of Severus Snape's role in the Final Battle, but an intriguing conversation with Harry one afternoon changed everything he thought he knew about the man. It seemed they all had something to hide over the years. He sat with Andromeda on another afternoon.

The third day after Hermione had left, Remus had half a thought to visit Dora's grave site since he had not attended her memorial service. But the pain was still too raw and he couldn't bear talking to a grave marker no matter how much he missed her.

So, against his Gryffindor spirit, Remus hid away in cowardice until the day of the full moon.

The afternoon of the full moon, Remus left for Hogsmeade Village a despondent man. Even though the War was over, his heart beat askew, like a broken pocket watch in need of tuning. They all carried the invisible scars of war.

He could see it in the way Harry would stare off into space sometimes while the youngest Weasley prattled on beside him, insistent on talking about everything _but_ the war. Or how Ronald Weasley would jump in fright at the smallest sound, his hand tight around his wand in a white-knuckled fist.

They were all exhibiting classic signs of post-traumatic stress, a diagnosis he learned about during his time in the Muggle world.

Climbing through one of the secret entrances to the Shrieking Shack, Remus figured he was grappling with some lingering effects as well. As he emerged inside the tattered remains of the Shack, he realized how utterly lonely he was.

Rubbing at a point just below his chest, Remus fell back into a torn sofa alone. What he wouldn't give for a friend to accompany this evening. Absently, his thoughts shifted to a brunette witch in Australia and he couldn't help but wonder what she was doing this night? Was she looking up at a full moon in despair or in contempt? Was she even thinking of him?

Such miserable thoughts would carry into the rest of the night and the coming day. It seemed only fitting that such painful thoughts accompanied the start of a painful transformation.

* * *

Time passed as it was known to do and the first thing Hermione did after she returned from Australia was to send her response to Headmistress McGonagall. Her trip to the land down under was not a success and while initially frustrated, she tried to look through her parents' eyes instead of her own.

They were happy and had set up a peaceful life outside of Melbourne. Maybe they didn't want to know they had a magical daughter, who had used complex magic on them without their knowledge. After chatting with them under a false identity, Hermione quickly resigned that she would need more time before she was ready to lift the memory charm.

So when Hermione returned back to the Burrow, amid questioning on her trip and welcoming hugs, she wasn't surprised to find a response owl flying through the kitchen window. Molly scared the poor thing as it interrupted her preparation for dinner, but Ron took the heavy envelope addressed to his girlfriend and sent the delivery owl on its way.

"What's this?" Ron opened her letter and began to read its content. Hermione frowned and took the letter from his hand as he crowed, "Head Girl? Of course, didn't expect anything else." Ron pressed a kiss to her temple. "Congrats, love."

Hermione beamed and read the letter for herself. "Thank you, Ronald." A wave of pride flooded her. The news lifted the lingering disappointment from Australia. Maybe Harry was right; it would be nice to experience a normal school year for a change. The congratulatory letter along with a list of school supplies to be purchased was the exact thing she needed to re-focus her thoughts, which had been so melancholy as of late.

As Ron informed the rest of his family, they approached her steadily throughout the afternoon to offer their congratulations. Ron beamed the entire time as if he was guaranteed some slack this year due to her status, but Hermione knew better. She would allow for him to think that way, for now.

Hesitantly, once it was just she, Ron, Harry and Ginny left, she asked against her better judgment, "Where's Remus?" Mugs of butterbeer were scattered between them as the mini-celebration died down.

"He left before the full moon last week. Said he didn't want to be a bother," Ron supplied, as he pushed handfuls of treacle tarts his mum had prepared into his mouth.

Grimacing at the sight, Hermione tried to mask her disappointment. While she wasn't sure if her former professor, now _Ulfric,_ was going to join her, she could not stop checking the doorway every few minutes to see if he would. She had a sneaking suspicion that her current melancholy did not entirely have to do with her parents. And that was another thing. Now that she was returning to Hogwarts, she needed to have a conversation with Remus posthaste.

But she wasn't ready to seek him out of her own, so she would wait. Tonight, she would enjoy the small moment happiness while she could. But the long days of summer ticked by and preparations had to made. Happiness morphed into excitement at purchasing new texts, parchment and quills. Together with Ginny, they all planned a trip to Diagon Alley for school supplies one August afternoon.

The Alley had underground a transformative restoration since she last seen it. True to his word, George, Fred and Angelina worked the crowds of returning students with their families with unbeatable discounts on their hot seller: skiving snackboxes.

Hermione rolled her eyes, but couldn't deny the killing they were making off of students. Ollivanders had been restored as well and was open for business. He had replaced the broken window panes and had a freshly painted sign installed. Fingering Bellatrix LeStrange's former wand, Hermione had briefly considered acquiring another, but she was this wand's owner now. She found it perfectly acceptable to use, so she thought no more on it.

The pair of witches had just exited Flourish and Blotts, their shoulder bags heavy with books. They were due to meet Harry and Ron at Florean Fortescue's for a midday treat.

Hermione pulled out the list of supplies she had memorized earlier. "I just've a few more things to collect then we can … Gin? Ginny, what is it?" Ginny had not kept up with her. Spinning on her heel, Hermione found the witch frozen in front of Madam Malkin's shoppe window.

"I heard she had survived, but no one's heard hide nor hair from her in over a month," Ginny breathed in wonder, her eyes wide as she tracked a figure inside the window pane.

"'Who' survived?" Hermione glanced inside briefly, not seeing who Ginny was speaking about.

"Lavender." Ginny indicated through the glass. "She just went into one of the dressing rooms."

Hermione looked once, but not keen to be caught leering in public, made it a very short glance. "Lavender? But … but I thought she had …"

"Apparently not." Ginny moved them away so they were no longer gawking inside like a couple of first years. "Everything was so hectic those first few hours after Voldemort's defeat, remember?"

Well, actually Hermione didn't remember because she was being carried in, unconscious, from the Forbidden forest. Instead, Hermione just nodded her head indicating she did remember.

"I saw them carrying Lavender in the Great Hall a bit afterwards. But by then, Harry had returned from searching the grounds," Ginny continued as she opened her list of supplies, reexamining it for any remaining items. "Healers were everywhere after that and I guess in the aftermath, I forgot about her. Then with the wedding and Angelina's pregnancy …"

"So … is she?" Hermione cautiously asked, mindful that eavesdroppers wouldn't overhear their conversation. She knew how hard werewolves were treated in their society and didn't want to add any stress to her fellow Gryffindor's life by starting untrue rumors.

"A werewolf?" Ginny finished for her and shrugged. "No one knows for sure. She hasn't been seen in public for over a month. A few in our year are saying she is, but she hasn't contacted anyone since May. I never saw her after the Final Battle, and from what I hear, neither has Pavarti. No one knows for sure."

Hermione hoisted her bag of heavy texts onto her shoulder, her brows perched in thought. "It's been a lot to adjust to for all of us. She probably wants to live in peace, like the rest of us."

Hermione quickly cut off what she was about to say as Lavender exited Madam Malkin's. Even though it was a particularly muggy summer afternoon, Lavender wore a long-sleeve shirt with a thick, pink scarf tight about her neck. Her eyes looked haunted and shallow as she glanced once down the alley, before catching eyes with Hermione and Ginny.

Typically, the bubbly blond would have smiled or at least waved in greeting. No matter their chilly relationship prior to the War, Hermione didn't hold any ill will towards the girl. But for a moment Lavender just stood there, frowning at the pair before walking off in the opposite direction, her arms tight about her waist.

They watched her speed through a throng of students and adults until her blonde head was out of sight.

"Well, that was rude. I know she saw us," Ginny sniffed.

"You don't suppose she heard us?" Hermione asked, feeling suddenly guilty. Her heart tightened uncomfortably as she imagined what it must have felt like for her fellow DA member to fight so bravely for her school only to now feel like an outsider.

If it was true that she was now a werewolf (although, Hermione couldn't be sure as her neck was wrapped pretty tightly), Lavender would need support if she were to re-join them this coming school year. Maybe Lavender could speak with Remus since he could relate better than anyone. But Hermione had no idea how to approach the subject with the witch. In fact, many of their fellow students would need some sort of support in one way or the other.

The gears in Hermione's mind began to turn furiously. She felt the urgent need for parchment and ink immediately as plans became to unfold within her mind. She was going to use her newly minted status as Head Girl to formulate a plan with Headmistress McGonagall.

With a rush of an apology to Ginny and the boys, Hermione headed directly for the owlery, framing not one, but two, letters in her mind. She jotted her thoughts to her former Head of House and followed by a much shorter one to a certain werewolf.

_Remus – _

_Can you be available to meet the night of 11 August, which according to the calendar is exactly two days before the next full moon? I think I have found a temporary solution that will satisfy the both of us._

_I await your response._

_Hermione_

She had not arrived back at the Burrow for more than an hour before she had his response.

_Dear Hermione,_

_It is good to hear from you. I am available to meet on the date requested. Do you have a suggested place and time?_

_Sincerely,_

_Remus_

Quickly scribbling a location and time to her former professor, Hermione sent the reply back with the owl that had brought the message. She had no idea if this would work, but theories required testing. If her theory held, then maybe, just _maybe _this could work. If not, then … well another theory would have to be tested.

But the excitement of returning back to Hogwarts, as Head Girl no less, was not going to dampen her spirits, no matter what bond Remus' wolf had tried to establish. And with that, she set out for the Three Broomsticks on the eleventh.

Hogsmeade was in the middle of preparing for the coming school year as well, as inn keepers and shoppe owners busied tiding up their storefronts. As Head Girl, Hermione could already imagine keeping eager third years in line as they raced to HoneyDukes.

With a wave to Madam Rosemerta as she entered The Three Broomsticks, Hermione easily spotted the tall werewolf sitting alone in a booth, already waiting for her. Taking a breath for courage, Hermione carefully approached and slid into the bench opposite of him.

"Hi," she greeted quietly, noting his peaky demeanor. The approach of yet another full moon was beginning to take its toll and while Hermione sympathized with him, she had come here on a mission tonight.

"Hello," Remus spoke as he took a sip of his drink. "You're looking … well." He didn't seem to be one for small talk neither as both struggled to erase the awkwardness that seemed to cloud their recent interactions.

Without a drink to steady her hands, Hermione played with the ends of her summer dress. "I've always loved the end of summer. Some of my favorite times of year happen towards the end of summer: my birthday, the start of the new school year."

Remus nodded, as if he were storing that information away. "Yes, you will be … ?"

Hermione blushed in spite of herself. "It's not polite to ask, but if you must know, I will be nineteen."

Remus took another healthy swig. "Right."

Seeking to get to the point, Hermione started, "I think we both agree that this … uncomfortable-ness … will be hard to ignore as subsequent moon cycles come upon us. Merlin knows it was hard enough while I was in Australia a few weeks back and I certainly won't have further distractions as I begin to study for my N.E.W.T.s in the coming year." Hermione noticed Remus perked up at her mention of her time spent in Australia.

"So, you have decided to return to Hogwarts, then?"

Hermione nodded, glad that her drink had finally arrived. After taking a sip, she responded, "I made my decision shortly after I returned. I've been named Head Girl."

He smiled sincerely and it lightened his features. "I wouldn't expect anything less. And was your trip successful?" Remus broached the topic carefully.

Hermione faltered and stumbled how to politely answer that question. "I – I will need more time, but for the time being, I've decided to leave my parents where they are. They seem to have adjusted and there's no need really in creating a further difficult situation." She took another sip of her drink to mask her unease.

Remus ducked his head to look her directly in the eye. "And have you given more thought to _our _situation?"

"I have. Have you thought about what I said?"

"I have," Remus answered, but gave no further explanation.

A bit impatiently, Hermione stressed, "And?"

"Seeing as the alternative is less than desirable, I suppose I have no choice but to comply."

"So, as I was saying, I think we should be able to work out an arrangement where we can spend time together during your…." Hermione blushed, but forged ahead, "that is to say, your time of … the days leading up to the full moon," she quickly finished. "From what I can tell, the bond is satiated by physical contact, but not necessarily physical intimacy. The greater the physical restraint of the _Ulfric_, the less physical contact is needed. Unless, of course, you should find a mate to take my place."

Remus shrugged and took another drink. "I believe my luck has expired on that front."

"Well, we both don't know what the future will bring. But in the meantime, I can be willing to be physically close to you, for no less than a period of two-three nights per month. With my other duties as Head Girl, I can't possibly afford to be away from my other responsibilities for such an extended period of time," she stated succinctly, laying out her terms.

" 'Physically be close to you'?" Remus repeated.

"Spatial proximity," Hermione clarified. "There is no reason why we can't sit and enjoy each other's company like we are right now. From the loneliness I gather is yours, perhaps it's companionship your wolf seeks." She blushed even harder. "Not physical intimacy. And absolutely nothing is to happen without my consent." The warning was clear in the brown eyes she leveled upon him.

Remus' eyes narrowed slightly. "Hermione, I have given you my word that I would never hurt you again. But you know as well as I do, that the full moon has effects that even I can't deny."

She regarded him softly. "I would expect you to try. Until the night of the full moon, you are in control, not your wolf. I am giving you one chance, Remus. One chance or I will not hesitate to go to Professor McGonagall." Each word was meaningful and to the point.

The werewolf's eyes darkened. If Hermione only knew how much that control had been meticulously slipping away over the summer. She was asking too much, and as his _paramour_ only **her** compliance was necessary. But he would take a piece of her company rather than none at all, so he agreed. Loneliness made acquiescence easy.

But another thought came to him. "Speaking of, I know Heads are usually granted extra privileges. James certainly used to boast his all the time during our seventh year. Am I to expect that Minerva will just willingly let you leave school grounds for two-three nights a month without question?"

"Certainly not." Hermione gave an enigmatic smile. "But then again, I won't have to."

"I'm afraid I don't follow?"

"You're going to be there with me, at Hogwarts." At his bewildered expression, Hermione continued a bit proudly, "I've owled Professor McGonagall with the idea before I contacted you. I received her reply earlier this afternoon. If you'd accept, you will be installed as Hogwarts newest professor of ACT or Advanced Coping Theory. It isn't an ordinary class and will be open only to sixth and seventh years. We both agreed that with many students returning after fighting in the War, most will need some sort of transition class to help adjust after Hogwarts. The idea came from Harry actually, who is sort of going through the same thing." Hermione failed to mention the tie-in from seeing her former classmate, Lavender, at Diagon Alley earlier that month.

"I'm to be a teacher at Hogwarts?"

Hermione nodded, knowing that Remus was currently without employment. "You'll be given your own quarters. You can develop your own lesson plans and there doesn't need to be an examination at the end of the year as I'm sure most will be pre-occupied with their N.E.W.T.s. I mean, who's better equipped to speak to survivors of war about coping mechanisms than someone who has survived two wars? Who has years of experience to cope with numerous realities? It's advice that many of my peers will be grateful to have. Professor McGonagall readily agreed. I'm sure Professor McGonagall can sort the details out with you, if you wish. But more importantly, this will allow us to accommodate the terms of the _paramouric_ bond, without others questioning my absence or your appearance at Hogwarts," Hermione finished nicely.

Remus peered down at her as he absorbed what she said. He had not yet agreed, however, and with a carefully raised brow asked, "And what of your peers? What if they should see you leaving my rooms, or I, leaving yours? What will be your answer to that?"

"Well – we'll just have to make sure that doesn't happen," Hermione stammered and studied her hands, quite uncomfortable with the turn in conversation. "I'm with Ron, Remus," she admitted quietly. "And I'm positive it won't be long until I can find something to negate this bond. In the meantime, I won't do anything to jeopardize that fact. As Head Girl, I will be able to utilize the restricted section of Hogwarts' library and I _do_ expect to find something. This only serves as a temporary measure." She failed to mention how her earlier search at Grimmauld Place had yielded nothing, but she remained hopeful. "But you need to know that I remain committed to Ronald," she stubbornly gave. "I hope he can one understand once I've explain everything to him in time, but that's another matter. For now, I hope I can expect your cooperation on this and _you_ can understand my need for this to remain private." Bravely, she held her hand out to him across the table.

Remus gave a tight smile. Of course he could understand her need for privacy. It wasn't like he was going to parade around announcing that she was his _paramour_, but still, it didn't sit right with him that she expected to remain completely faithful to Ronald. She knew that she could never be physically intimate with him as long as their bond was intact. But he knew from the moment he met her, she was a stubborn thing.

Remus could smell her hesitation and knew her to be struggling with her own emotions as she laid out her terms. She was a tight rope walk away from falling into his arms. His wolf agreed. As he closed his hand around her own, he cautioned, "You were never one I thought to be caught in naiveté, Hermione. It doesn't suit you."

She held his hand a moment longer, before pulling it back under the table. "I am not being naïve. I am trying to find a solution that suits all parties involved; I thought you would be grateful."

"I don't want to see you hurt. I'm afraid you're only setting yourself, the both of you," he amended, "up for unnecessary pain."

Coolly, she retorted and folded her arms. Remus could see her flexing and stretching the hand that just held his. "Let me worry about my actions, and you worry about yours."

His _paramour_ was going to be a difficult one to contend with. But as he appraised her folded arms, chin defiantly stuck in the air, Remus felt he was up for the challenge. He was actually looking forward to it. "Of course," he replied as he settled back into the bench and watched as she relaxed across from him. Their legs barely touched. "Right, so what is your favorite type of music?"

As Remus studied his _paramour_ as she began to answer, keen for the change of topic, he began to plot his reply to Minerva. He would owl her first thing come morning.

* * *

_To be continued…_

_If you feel so inclined, I would love to hear what you think! Love to you all!_


	7. September Moon, Part One

Chapter Seven: September Moon Part One

* * *

The Golden Trio stood a little unsure on the platform at 9 ¾. They were more than a head taller than the youngest present that warm first day of September. Activity buzzed all around, familiar calls and hoots of owls, toads and cats raced by as they were carried by their owners. Trunks were loaded onto the cars, and yet Hermione couldn't shake the unease of standing here. She knew she belonged here, but yet, felt as if she didn't. Last year this time, they had been on the run from Voldemort's Ministry, on the hunt for horcruxes; school seemed the furthest things from her mind. Now they stood facing a gleaming Hogwarts' Express as if they past year hadn't happened at all.

Hermione felt trapped in a time paradox; as if the river of time had left her behind and she was left to swim haphazardly to catch up to everyone. Had they really lost a year on the run?

Some friends were not joining them on the trek back to Scotland this year, which answered her question bleakly. But still, the sun shone ever bright as they loaded their cargo onto the train. As they boarded the Hogwarts Express, she noted they were a bit tall for the train's narrow corridors, as evidenced from Ron and Harry's need to stoop through the carriage. Harry led the way, past endearing stares and hushed whispers until they finally located an empty compartment.

Had it really been two years since she had rode this train last? Running her hand over the worn fabric of the seat, Hermione felt the brakes lift as the train began to pull out of the station. Ron and Ginny waved goodbye to Molly through an open window; Harry did as well.

Hermione had no one to see her off, she thought with a pinch of pain.

But the familiar call of duty and academia stirred within as she grabbed the Head Girl badge within her jean pocket. She ran her tongue over the bottom row of her teeth in anticipation, repressing a tight smile. She couldn't deny it; she was pleased and couldn't wait to fashion it to her brand new robes for all to see. It may have been a small token, never to replace all she had lost, but it was something.

Nearly an hour after they pulled out of London, Hermione excused herself to change into their school robes. She left Ginny, Ron and Harry in the compartment and headed for the closest loo to change.

Madam Malkin had done an excellent job as usual. Hermione couldn't deny the comforting feeling of being surrounded by her woolen school robes. Affixing her Head Girl badge to the front of her cloak, she adjusted the badge in front of the small mirror. The meeting with the new group of Prefects was set to begin shortly and she would be ready to join the group in the Head Car. Absentmindedly, she ticked off the short list of who could possibly be the Head Boy as she closed the door behind her.

Hermione barely made it one step into the narrow hallway before she collided headlong with another student.

"Ouch!" two women cried.

Steadying a hand on the window beside her, Hermione immediately apologized, "Oh, I'm sorry." She blamed her clumsiness on the swaying movement of the train as she rubbed a sore spot on her temple.

"No problem." A familiar voice had Hermione lifting her head and brown eyes widened in response. She stood directly opposite of Lavender Brown. The tall blond smirked as she perused Hermione's bright, clean robes. "Head Girl, then? I'm not surprised," her fellow Gryffindor twisted her lips as she regarded the shorter witch.

Hermione stuttered for something appropriate to say. "Er … thank you. It's good to see you, Lavender."

And she meant it. War had a funny way of broadening one's priorities and she rather have her once-rival for love alive and well, instead of the other way around. They had lost too many friends already.

The witch stammered, evidently not expecting such a sincere statement from her former roommate and offered unconvincingly, "Yeah. You too."

Clearly uncomfortable with any further conversation, the blonde rushed past Hermione in a blur of robes and sweet perfume. Hermione stared after witch with curious suspicion.

She never confirmed if Ginny's suspicions were true, but maybe Lavender _was_ hiding something. Her curious nature compelled her to follow and ask how Lavender how she had been coping after the war; she did honestly care after all. It was hard to discern her true feelings from a too-quick meeting in the hallway, but Hermione would have to investigate it later. There simply wasn't any time for it now.

_Right after the prefects' meeting, _Hermione thought to herself with a determined shake of her head.

* * *

But there hadn't been anytime to track down Lavender afterwards; in fact, there hadn't been anytime to meet back up with Harry, Ron or the others. Anthony Goldstein, who had been named Head Boy, had burned a hole in Hermione's ear with thoughts and plans for the coming year. Most had merit and she gave her input as well. They both ended up staying in the Head Car well after the sun had set. The two often got lost in the details, but she didn't mind.

Once or twice, she found herself wondering if Remus was aboard the train with her, but as Anthony emphasized how things were going to be different this year, she brought her drifting mind back to the forefront with a mental pinch to focus.

Hermione was happy to see familiar faces at the prefects meeting. Ron and Harry were notably not among the list of prefects for the coming year, but honestly, she thought they both wouldn't mind skipping the extra responsibility – and it seemed Professor McGonagall was of the same mind. This year was to be a year-long victory lap for the Boy-Who-Conquered and Hermione could hardly see Ron wanting to miss out on the fame that came with being a part of the Golden Trio.

By time the train pulled into Hogsmeade, the only students excited to depart were the ever-eager first years. Every one else nervously stepped off the coach with a palpable edge of apprehension, as if the Carrows would be there to personally greet them with their trunks.

Hermione had heard how awful life had been under Snape and the Carrows' reign. Her fellow students marched ahead of her to the threstal-drawn carriages, but to her astonishment no started in surprise at seeing the once-invisible creatures.

She thought it terribly wrong that her fellow students had become so jaded and numb. Ron had not waited for her on the platform, but Anthony had been nice enough to accompany her to a waiting carriage. But once more, she found herself looking around for a certain … presence.

As they crossed the courtyard, Hermione had to admit that her childhood school had been rebuilt to its' former glory, stone by stone. Hogwarts had shown no evidence that it had been gravelly damaged in a fierce battle just a few months prior.

By time Hermione crossed the Entrance Hall, news had spread that Harry Potter had returned to Hogwarts for his final year like wildfire. No one was surprised to hear that she had returned, but Hermione didn't mind. They all wanted to speak with Ron and Harry anyway and she gladly let them.

She found the inseparable duo at Gryffindor table surrounded by young admirers. She was not surprised to see Ron recounting tales when Harry politely refused to do so. Ron had so often been resigned to Harry's shadow and she knew the unspoken toll it took to remain quiet when Harry was the one who doggedly hounded, despite the fact that it had always been the three of them.

It took several minutes and Headmistress McGonagall clearing her throat three times for the hoards of younger years to finally take their seats so the sorting ceremony could begin. During the ceremony, Hermione noticed several in her year and years below had chosen to return. Professors were introduced and she clapped politely when Remus J. Lupin and the new class for seventh and eighth years were introduced. The famous werewolf wasn't present that night at the Head table, but the room clapped anyway.

She could barely enjoy her dinner before she and Anthony stood to corral students and prefects to their dorms for the evening. There was hardly time to say goodnight to Harry and Ron.

In fact, there would be little she would see of Ron, Ginny or Harry those first few days. Between her separated dorms away from Gryffindor Tower, schedules to be arranged with Anthony and the teachers, skirmishes among prefects, she had little time outside of meals and breaks between classes to speak with her boyfriend.

They met up outside of the library at the end of the day, but she could tell Ron was put out from the lack of attention. Hermione promised that things would slow down by the week's end, at least she hoped it would.

She hadn't forgot about her run-in with Lavender on the train ride into Hogwarts either. She unsuccessfully received no further news from Ginny or Padma. And she causally spoke about the blonde in passing with Pavarti, who spent an awful amount of time in Anthony's office after classes.

But the brunette witch didn't have much to say and after a rather rude look left the Head Boy and Head Girl's office in a huff.

The morning of her first ACT class, Hermione decided to skip breakfast in favor of a lie-in. In fact, she had woken up that morning with an odd sense of dread and excitement. It was thrilling that an initiative she put in place was being executed. It would help her friends (and her too) in ways they couldn't yet begin to understand. Ginny told her how despite being back in a familiar setting, no one had been able to sleep well the first few nights. Even though they all knew Voldemort had been vanquished, the memories these re-built walls held kept them from feeling completely safe. Even the ghosts had been a little subdued.

But a lack of sleep wasn't the reason why Hermione couldn't pull back the covers and get out of bed. Her earlier explorations had uncovered a secret passageway that led directly from her private kitchen to the fourth floor, exactly where her first class of the day was being held. If she timed it right, she had exactly twenty-two minutes to get there, but something kept her frozen beneath her duvet.

Today would be the first time she had seen Remus since their meeting in Hogsmeade. She had seen him in passing while in the hallway earlier in the week, but she had been with Ron and her friends then and purposefully ignored him. Although she had promptly grabbed Ron's hand the moment she spotted the former Order member, it had been hard to ignore his presence. She felt it glide along her spine, even as her group moved further down the hallway.

But today, there would be no hiding from it. From him.

As Head Girl, she had a duty to her fellow classmates to set an example and she very well couldn't do that by skiving the very first class she, herself, helped create. So why was her stomach full of lead and her arms pulled to her chest, paralyzed with apprehension?

Harry and the others were excited to see their favorite former professor back, and with the backing of Headmistress McGonagall, it seemed as most of Hogwarts was as well. Getting ready at the last possible moment, she walked briskly down the passageway to the fourth floor.

She stood purposefully at the back of the line waiting to enter the Advance Coping Theory classroom and pretended to search through her bag as the others began to file in. She rummaged for something, anything to give her a little more time as her heart rate sped up.

"Purposefully trying to lose Gryffindor points for tardiness?"

Hermione's head snapped up at the sound of the voice, one part sweet and one part teasing.

"Go ahead, Pavarti," the saccharine voice continued. "I'll only be a minute." Lavender smiled tightly at her friend as the pretty witch filed in with the rest of the class.

Hesitantly, Hermione greeted her housemate, "Morning, Lavender."

"Cut the niceties, Hermione. I know you've been asking about me," the blonde's naturally pretty face twisted with distaste as her voice dropped to a fierce whisper. "I'll only tell you this once. Stop with the questions."

Hermione halted the search within her bag and pulled her shoulders back, slightly affronted. "Pardon me?"

"Oh, come off it." Lavender stepped into her personal space. Now up close with the blonde, it was easy to notice the pale features of Lavender's once rosy appearance. "Stop snooping." Each word was enunciated for emphasis.

"Snooping?" she mocked incredulously.

"Yes, _snooping. _You honestly didn't think I wouldn't hear, did you?"

But before Hermione could sputter a lie that would throw her housemate off her back, the warning bell rung and both made haste for the door before the final bell could chime.

Ron saved her a seat which she nearly collapsed into, completely flustered and taken aback. She hadn't meant for her concern to flood the castle and as she glanced around, she wondered how many in her year and Ginny's year knew the Head Girl was questioning the status of Lavender Brown.

She noted most of the eighth years and seventh years were sitting according to year. The room allowed three or four to each table. Malfoy and Zabini were one of the few Slytherins present in the room and everyone tried to distance themselves from them.

But no one was looking at her. Swallowing thickly, she chanced a look at Lavender sitting across the aisle closest to her. The blonde's eyes narrowed further as Hermione made contact and quickly, she ducked her head down towards her bag, searching for a quill and pen for notes.

Lavender's gaze promised this wasn't over between the two of them.

But as Remus entered the room from a door behind the teacher's desk, no one noticed the miniscule jump she and Lavender gave at his entrance into the room.

Introductions weren't needed as most already knew who he was. They had just fought a war alongside him not less than four months ago. But instead of launching into an opening speech about what this class would entail and expectations, the werewolf only leaned against his desk, his arms crossed and expression contemplative.

His eyes, usually kind and warm, traversed the class. Hermione tried not to draw attention to herself and willed her professor not to glance her way. The brief episode with Lavender in the hallway already had her feeling warm with suspicion and now, she struggled to remain discreet less her classmates notice her un-comfortableness.

But thankfully, Remus finally spoke after what seemed like hours of silent torture. To her great relief, his question wasn't directed at her. Evenly, he asked, "Seamus, who killed Neville Longbottom on May 2nd?" A collective gasp shuddered through the small classroom.

The red-head, visibly flustered by the sudden question, struggled to answer. Clearly taken by surprise, he swallowed before speaking, "Er…"

"Neville Longbottom, kindly fellow," Remus explained as if Seamus didn't know his deceased dormmate. "Would be sitting here with us today, I imagine?"

The red of Seamus' face matched the red of his hair as emotion made it difficult to respond. A hand tightened around his quill to the point of breaking. "I don't… I'm not sure," he grated to his desk, refusing to look his professor in the face.

Pushing off the desk finally, Remus walked slowly among the aisle, his hands behind his back. "And Ms. Weasley," Remus directed to a stunned Ginny. "… Your classmate, Luna Lovegood? Do you know who killed her?"

"Some Death Eater bastard," Ginny spat defiantly, sneering to the back of Malfoy's head across the classroom.

The temperature in the classroom dipped passed the point of civility as most of the class started to murmur after Ginny's hateful response.

Beside Hermione, Ron's posture stiffened as he allowed the stirring in the classroom to overtake him too.

Eyes widening, Hermione purposefully tried to catch Remus' eye, deathly afraid he would lose his class within the first hour.

But as if he had predicted it, he rose above the growing din and only had to shout the first name before the class fell into silence.

"Voldemort." As the class cut off all murmuring, he only had to whisper the names next. "Bellatrix LeStrange. Fenrir Greyback." He stated each name with purpose and even Hermione couldn't help but to flinch. Not at the now-destroyed Voldemort, as her classmates (save Harry) did, but at the name of the mad witch who had made her scream.

Eyeing the class, Remus had to know each reflected back at him a certain level of fear as he rattled off the now deceased Death Eaters. "Voldemort killed my best friend. As did Bellatrix LeStrange. Fenrir Greyback killed my father. They've probably killed others you know and love as well." Remus stated too calmly for Hermione's nerves as she struggled against the emotions those names wrought within her. "And do you know how I cope?" he asked simply to a muted classroom.

None could answer him.

"Forgiveness. Acceptance."

Hermione could hear Ron scoff beside her. That was a tall order to ask of anyone, Remus had to know that. And to ask her classmates to even try would be a hard task indeed. In fact, it was too much to ask Seamus it seemed as the red-head packed up his things and left post-haste.

"This class won't be easy. There will be difficult moments for all of us and I can't assure you that you all will attain a level of acceptance by the end of this school year."

Dean Thomas left right after Seamus, apparently siding with his friend.

Hermione looked to her left and noted Ron's lips were pursed tightly. Harry, in front of him, was white and completely unreadable.

Yet, Remus continued, "But I can impart to you tools necessary to accept, truly accept that Neville, Luna, Sirius, James and all others we hold dear, did not die in vain. That because you sit here and they don't doesn't mean that you should pity yourselves. We all carry the marks of what has happened to us…" Remus pulled the sleeve of his jacket up to show a long, protruding pink scar that was still healing: a relic of war.

Unconsciously, Hermione rubbed the mark beneath her chest.

"And whether those marks sit on the outside or the inside, I will help you learn that not all marks are permanent and eventually they will … heal." He stopped his stroll through the aisles as he stood in front of his desk. He gave a rogue grin before finishing, "Now let's try this again next week, shall we? You're dismissed."

Still in shock, the class numbly gathered their things. Normally they all would be excited to have a free period, but none hurried to leave the classroom.

"Well, I don't know about you, but that's ruined the rest of the day for me," Ron sourly remarked as Harry and Ginny neared their table.

Ginny held her book tight to her chest, her eyes rapidly blinking. "Tell me about it." She looked back to where their professor had already disappeared behind the door he had entered through earlier. "What do you suppose that was about?"

Harry, still visibly shaken, shook his head. "No idea."

The quartet decided to spend the remainder of their free period out in the courtyard, but even the mid-September sunshine couldn't do much to remove the coldness that Remus had set into their bones. Hermione had a feeling this class could go brilliantly or end up a disaster. This was not the start she envisioned for her legacy as Head Girl.

One week before her birthday, Hermione was checking her messages in the staff break room, when she noticed a bright, white envelope waiting inside of her box. This wasn't like the usual notes, requesting tutoring assistance from younger years and her hands shook as she took the missive and opened it.

_Our time draws near, my dear. My place or yours? _It read.

She pursed her lips as a tingle of nervousness swept across her shoulder blades. The note wasn't signed, but Hermione could easily guess who it was from. Only a teacher or the Heads had access to this break room and the one teacher who would leave her a note, would not be daft enough to sign his name to it.

Hastily, she picked up a quill and penned her response. She mixed the missive in with the other messages she had to deliver to staff and when she reached Remus' inbox, she deposited the note and moved promptly onto the next.

Hermione had almost forgotten with her Head duties that the full moon was approaching. Well, that wasn't completely true. As the excitement of the first week died down (she had given her first detention to a sassy first year Gryffindor on the third day!), Hermione found it hard to sleep. Thoughts plagued her mind endlessly as she pondered what to do about her fledging relationship with Ronald, her classes and study schedule, and how that would ever balance that with her Head duties, and a secret relationship with her ACT professor.

Walking back alone in her private dorm, her mouth twisted into a grim frown as she passed the portrait entrance that led to her private quarters. While the Head Girl dormitory was magnificent and full of every amenity possible, it did not hold the warmth and coziness she come to love during her years in Gryffindor Tower. The outer living area of the dorm was large and inviting, but its marble fireplace could not hold a candle to the fire in the Gryffindor common room. For all her time wishing that her roommates would be quiet and go to sleep, she even missed Pavarti and Lavender's gossiping.

Though her king-sized bed was doused in her house colors, the expansive room did little to staunch her lonely mood. Deciding to take a relaxing shower before bed, she quickly took care of a last bit of work (her homework was already completed through next Thursday) before she grabbed a familiar book from her trunk and climbed into bed for light reading. But the will to break open the worn pages of _Hogwarts: A History_ just wasn't in her tonight.

Laying against the fluffiest pillows she could imagine, the book strewn across her lap, Hermione wished for a vat of Dreamless Sleep. Perhaps she could brew her own batch, down it and just wake up when the full moon had passed. Or she could always go to Professor McGonogall and ask for the use of another time-turner, but she shut that thought away the moment it floated into her mind. She was a Gryffindor and she would not bypass days of her life just because she was apprehensive of her time coming up with Remus.

More than apprehensive really. And the apprehension blossomed into nervousness, which only made her blush at her skittishness.

So exactly four days before her birthday, Hermione knocked the obligatory amount before she reached for the door handle to the quarters Remus J. Lupin was occupying. His door was the first door in the same hallway as their ACT classroom. The room was unlocked and not password-protected, but then again, Remus knew she would be arriving this evening. Wishing now she had brought a book, or even her completed Transfiguration essay to pretend to work on, she quickly disappeared behind the door and stood within the entryway to a modest-sized room.

Hermione looked around the space and noted odds and ends that had decorated his office during his time as their DADA professor were still there.

Seeing how no one had come to greet her, she called into the mid-sized space, "Professor?"

"You know, you don't have to call me that in here," a voice answered from her left. She masked the need to jump at his smooth tenor, but could not hide the small chill that ran down her arms to the points of her fingers. She rubbed her arms in response.

"Sorry," she whispered as he moved behind to lock the door behind her. "Habit," she explained.

Hermione watched as he drew his wand from his sleeve and with a series of movement she recognized, and some she didn't, warded his room for privacy. He did not usher her inside, but he did offer her a cup of tea which she gladly accepted, although her stomach wished for something stronger to settle the nerves escaping from her gut.

There was a small table with two chairs, which doubled for work and eating, she assumed. In the middle of the quaint room sat a pair of nice sofas, half of which were covered in various texts and old record albums. Beyond them were a small fireplace and a door which she presumed led to his sleeping quarters. One wall was completely lined in bookshelves and unpacked boxes. The opposite wall held a door, which led to his classroom. Standing beside his desk, Hermione warred with indecision on whether to sit at the table or to move towards the one free sofa. But Remus apparently made the decision for the both of them.

He pulled out a chair at the small table which she gratefully sat in. The table was set for one and held a small paperback book and his reading glasses, which he had set aside when she entered. She wondered briefly had she interrupted his reading time when she had opened his door; her fingers itched to close the book to determine what he had been reading. He bustled a bit behind her before joining her, but she saw no tea bags or spoons accompanying his own cup.

"Something else?" she gestured to his cup when he took a hefty swig.

He grimaced as he swallowed the concoction down and stared into the bottom of the mug. "Professor Slughorn was so kind to brew me a helping of Wolfsbane this afternoon."

Hermione nodded, looking down into her own cup. "Ah, yes."

"Not my choice of an evening drink, but a necessity," he replied factually, before drowning the steaming mug in one long gulp. He visibly shuddered and set the mug down.

"And what is?" Hermione countered. "Your idea of an evening drink?" she explained.

"I'm quite fond of a Jasmine Green tea. It's a blend I found during my time in Japan."

"You've been to Japan?"

"You sound surprised." He gave a placating smile as he settled into his chair.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to be rude. It's just…"

"It's alright," Remus said with a wave of his hand. "Most wouldn't think a man of my means could afford the opportunity to travel, but I've had odd jobs that have taken me across the globe. After James and Lily's death, there wasn't much left for me here anymore. Harry was hidden away so there was no need to stay in London. Sirius was in Azkaban."

Her eyebrows furrowed as she recalled an earlier conversation some time ago. "You've mentioned some time spent in the South Americas. Where else have you been?"

"I spent the greater part of a year in the States, South America as you recall, specifically, Brazil, Venezueal, Peru, let's see … I spent two years in Japan, one long month in India, and hopped all over Europe, as you can imagine."

"And the entire time, you've … you were with other werewolf packs?" She recalled his mention of his time spent with a local pack in South America earlier that summer.

"Not all the time. Like I said most of the time I was working here and there, but it's always good to find the local pack whenever you visit a new locale. There are certain," he searched for the proper word, "customs that need to be upheld."

Confused, Hermione ventured, "I'm afraid I don't follow."

"Werewolves are hierarchical by nature. It's doesn't bode well for a lone werewolf, particularly a male werewolf, to suddenly appear in unfamiliar territory. But most packs were looking for someone to parlay with the local wizarding villages and I found it easy to act as a go-between. Once I had established trust with the local Alpha, I could go back and forth between the villages to procure magical items they could not. Potions, healing supplies and the like. I made many alliances that way. Most locals didn't even know I was a werewolf myself, so they saw nothing odd with me coming into their store to buy such items."

Hermione found herself raptured by his tale, and sat forward in her seat. "And did they? Ever find out, I mean?"

He winked at her. "Oh, they almost always did. Some cared more so than others." Remus' face grew dark as he remembered their responses to his blood-status. "Once the cat was out of the bag, my employment was immediately terminated." Remus half-smiled at the frown between her eyebrows. "Oh don't worry, it didn't happen everywhere I went. In fact, I was half-tempted to remain in the States, probably a little bit before what would have been the start of your first year."

"How so?"

"The States have a more lax attitude in general towards magical creatures working for their Magical Federation. I remembered my father travelled many a time to the States when I was a lad hoping to bring some of their policies back to the Ministry. Didn't quite succeed on that front," he spoke almost bitterly.

"The States honestly have greater cooperation with magical creatures than the Ministry here?" Hermione asked disbelievingly.

Remus shrugged. "At least in the corner of the world I was working in."

Hermione gestured to the pile of boxes along the wall he had yet to unpack for the coming year. "Is that where you've accumulated most of this?" she said with a small smile.

Remus turned around to see what she was pointing at. "That is my life in a box. Or several boxes." With that, he stood and began to rummage through a half-unpacked box. "Trinkets from my father's house, souvenirs from people I met over the years, books I've bought, but have yet to read. And this …" He pulled a long flat cover from the bottom of the box and blew the dust from it. "This is really something special." He removed an old record, similar to the records her father used to play when she was little. Moving another box off and to the side, Remus unearthed an dusty album player and set the record upon it.

A small scratch filled the room before the sensual strands of piano keys and a saxophone filled the room. The mellow sound immediately set Remus at ease as his fingers tapped in time to the easy beat. His head titled back as the song crescendo'ed and fell into a groove of its own. "A shoppekeeper I worked with in New York City introduced me to jazz during my time there. Needless to say, I picked up a couple of records before I returned to London."

Hermione watched from her seat as Remus leveled his gaze upon her, took a step, then another towards her. He held a hand out to her, similar to Fred's wedding, except this time there was no one to oversee this particular dance. "Dance with me," he asked, his hand outstretched towards her.

Subconsciously, she leaned back in her chair. "I don't know this song."

Remus reached down and encircled the hand she had hidden away under the table. "It quite fits the occasion, I'd say." Pulling her to her feet, Remus answered her unspoken question. "'In a Sentimental Mood' by John Coltrane and Duke Ellington. Have you heard of them?" Remus pulled her in closer as the song dipped into intimacy. Inversely as the music slowed, her heart beat climbed.

She nodded, her eyes focused on the button over his chest. "I have." But she elaborated no more. "It's quite nice."

"It is."

Remus danced quite well, she realized, as he easily led her through the number. She was transported to a world far away from Hogwarts even if it was for a few minutes. The skin around her chest grew hot and a flash of desire forced her to tear eyes open that had begun to close. They danced politely for two minutes more before Remus broke the air with a question, "How are your classes coming?"

Grimacing against the itch between her bra cups, she answered, "It's been a hectic first week, but it always is. I'm managing fine."

"And your favorite class so far?" He gave her a secret smile as his index finger drew circles on her back. She couldn't lie and say it was an uncomfortable feeling.

"If that's a ploy for me to name your class, you'll have to do better than that," she replied on a chuckle, averting her eyes to right. She could feel a blush creeping up her neck again as his hand settled against the small of his back. Oddly, the largeness of his hand fit there perfectly. She tried to imagine what Ron's hand had felt like there but the comparison came up empty. Dejectedly, she knew she had nothing to compare it to.

"Couldn't blame me for trying."

Refocusing her thoughts, Hermione spoke instead, "If it means anything, I think you're doing a great job so far. Most of our other classes are striving for normalcy. They pretend as if our class isn't sizably smaller than it was last year, as if the students they were teaching last year, but absent this year, had simply decided not to return … rather than," Hermione struggled over the words, "_died_ in a war a few months ago." She swallowed while she found the courage to say what she really thought. "You're not sugarcoating things for us and though it's hard to my fellow eighth years to voice it, we are grateful."

He chuckled ruefully. "'Grateful' isn't the word I would use to describe our first day. I think some of your classmates will truly hate me by year's end, if they don't already."

"And that concerns you?" she asked shrewdly.

Carelessly, Remus shrugged. "At this point of my life, I'm afraid it doesn't."

They both laughed easily, the tension deflating with humor.

"But I do find myself concerned about what _you_ think," he answered softly, earnestly. His hand squeezed hers just briefly.

Hermione looked up from the floor to meet brown eyes; darkness of another kind swirled within their depths.

"About?" Hermione clarified.

"About forgiveness, about acceptance?"

"About us, you mean?" she finished stiffly. Her hands squeezed his hand and shoulder in warning.

"I thought there wasn't an 'us'. Your words, I remind you."

Hermione's head went fuzzy as she tried to push away the fading allure of the song and the wizard before her. He smelt of potion ingredients and something else. Something stronger… something that called to her. "There isn't," she answered decisively. "An 'us', I mean." She found it hard to describe how she felt about acceptance and forgiveness in one coherent sentence. She knew he wasn't talking about war and old beliefs any longer, but their situation and what had led them here.

Suddenly, she stepped back from his embrace, the song long over. "I think… I think I should go," she replied instead, leaving that for another night. She had held up her end of the bargain and now it was time for him to let her leave for the night.

He stepped back, released her and opened his mouth to reply. But quickly changing his mind, he closed his mouth and then spoke instead, "Of course." He accompanied her to the door and offered politely, "Would you like me to walk you back to your rooms?"

She deposited her cup in the small sink in the kitchenette near the door. "I'll be fine, thank you." She paused just before the door. "So, tomorrow night?"

"Tomorrow night," he agreed.

With a small wave and a tight smile, she bade him, "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Hermione."

The next day Hermione brushed up on jazz music during her free period, intent to find more common ground to speak with Remus about. Her prior plan to research _paramours_ was temporarily put on hold.

* * *

_To be continued…_

_Next up … Remus and Hermione's night before the September full moon, Hermione's birthday and gifts of another kind. _

_A/N: I want to thank you all for being so patient with this update. My father passed away suddenly on Aug 15__th__ and I was left to deal with a lot, quickly. That's hard to do with a full-time job, young children take care of and travel for final services. I was in the middle of this update when I got the news and things got put on hold for a bit. But I'm picking things back up as it is never my intention to leave a story for so long. And again, I thank you all for being so patient with me. More is coming soon!_


	8. September Moon, Part Two

Chapter Eight: September Moon, Part Two

* * *

Hermione awoke in the wee hours early Friday morning desperately craving a hug, or any human contact. She had been yanked from unconsciousness, breathing uneven; her heart was set to burst from her chest. Squeezing her eyes against the rapidly replaying images, she desperately tried to re-orient herself.

She had been back in Bellatrix's clutches. Except this time, Harry and Ron laid dead on the ground, their lifeless eyes haunting her while the mad witch tortured her into submission. She had begged for death and was cruelly denied.

Her hands trembled as if the lingering effects of the Cruciatus curse were still upon them. She shuddered, wrapping hands under her arms for warmth, and forced herself to stop replaying the vivid nightmare behind her eyelids. The Head Girl's dormitory, normally quiet and peaceful, was eerily quiet and too constrictive for her taste.

She had to get out of there.

A quick _tempus_ charm informed her that it was four in the morning and none, save the elves, would be moving about so early. Hastily dressing in her school uniform, she grabbed her books and headed for the library via the kitchens. Friday was a free day for her, but her plans to quietly study in her dorm until lunch were nixed after the abrupt end to her night. She wouldn't dare remain in this quiet room where the shadows could play tricks on her.

Prepared to journey to the kitchens for an early breakfast, Hermione paused when she spotted a small gift sitting just outside her portrait door. Part of her immediately thought to check it for curses, a leftover from her wartime days. But today was her birthday, she thought sullenly. A quick wave of her wand determined the gift to be jinx-free.

So far her birthday was off to an unimpressive start.

But someone had taken to leave her a present in the late night hours and with a small smile, Hermione opened her first present of the day. Inside the wrappings, there was a large record album and unabashedly she smiled. It contained the same song she and Remus had danced to the night before. Turning the album over, she noticed a small missive attached the back cover.

_To start your own collection,_ the note read. It was not signed, but then again, he wouldn't need to, she thought.

She placed the gift on her entryway table before heading out in search of coffee or food. Harry and Ron had a free day as well and after a few hours well spent in the library, she headed towards the Great Hall hoping to find them there.

But Head duty called and Anthony intercepted her in the hallway. The two walked and talked at the same time on the way to the Head's office. By time her business was finished with him, it was well after ten a.m. and breakfast was finished for the morning. She ran into Gryffindor's ghost, Sir Nicholas, who had informed her that while Ron and Harry had waited for her to join them, breakfast had concluded, and the two were scrimmaging down at the pitch in advance of tryouts.

Knowing she wouldn't get a word in with either of them until they were well and truly exhausted (which could take the rest of the day), Hermione busied herself with a schedule of office hours, study groups, and meetings with professors to arrange for tutors. Bregrugingly, she only had two hours to do her own homework.

She had worked through lunch (again) and decided it was time for a break. As she approached the kitchens, preparing to beg for a midday snack, she noticed two individuals in deep conversation across the courtyard. Upon closer inspection, she noticed said persons were Remus and Lavender. Both were sitting side by side on the stone bench, but not close enough to be improper; and they were lost to their private conversation. Just then, Lavender made a broad sweeping motion with one hand; Remus laughed in response and his answer had the blonde laughing as well.

Hermione thought it strange to see the two speaking so easily, but she did not stop to snoop. Her browed wrinkled in curiosity as she imagined what they could be speaking about, but she continued on with the rest of her day.

But the sight weighed heavily upon her for the rest of the day, however. She found herself still wondering what they were talking about after dinner, even when Ron had hastily given her a gaudy necklace and a kiss for her birthday present. To take her mind off of it, she tried to deepen the kiss with Ron (they're time together had been so sparse), who was all but too happy to take things further, but she pulled away in disgust a few minutes into snogging him.

It felt … just wrong and ill-placed. She bumbled through some sort of explanation of why she had to leave him suddenly – her time with Remus was drawing near. After she thanked again for the gift, she left with the feeling that it wasn't just she who had been disappointed either.

Her head was still going a mile a minute as she sat at Remus' dinner table later that evening. Her books spread before her, she pondered if the effects of the _paramour _bond was why her kiss with her boyfriend was less than up-to-par. The book she had found on the subject spoke of mating or physical intercourse with her _Ulfric_. It didn't say anything about snogging another.

Sighing loudly, she re-read the same passage again and tried to keep her brain focused on her Transfiguration essay.

"Would you mind terribly if I hold your hand?" Remus' hand hovered just above hers. "I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I require, ah, some sort of physical contact," he sounded sligently embarrassed about this admission.

Hermione looked at his hand as if the limb would personally offend, but then quickly chastised herself and offered, "No, that'll be alright." She could not deny that Remus looked downright sickly as the sun drew closer to sunset. Tonight was the night of the full moon and if physical contact helped him to feel better, she supposed it couldn't hurt.

Remus enclosed her hand with his and she stared at it; he held it so reverently before giving it a gentle squeeze to bring her gaze back to his eyes. It actually felt nice. His skin was warm to the touch and the little circles he liked to draw on the back of her hand calmed her racing mind immensely.

Hermione swallowed before blurting out the question that had been on her mind for the better part of the day. "I notice you and Lavender talking out in the courtyard this afternoon." Remus remained quiet, his aura unreadable to her and she continued, reminding herself she was asking only because she was concerned – or so she told herself.

She tucked a curl behind her ears and plowed on, "I only inquire because some students are saying that after the attack this past May…"

"I never figured you one to care about blood-status, Hermione."

Hermione's eyes widened at his implied innuendo and she leapt from her seat incensed. Their linked hands dropped. "I don't!" she replied indignantly. "And you _know_ I that don't - "

From his seat at the table, Remus smoothly interrupted her, "Then why are you asking about a private conversation between a student and I?"

Hermione's mouth worked to answer his question. "I'm concerned others may start unnecessary rumors. Untrue rumors. I've tried speaking with her about it, because as Head Girl, I am responsible for all of Hogwarts' students. And I only want what's best for her," she finished somewhat unconvincingly.

Remus was quiet for a heartbeat more. "From what I understand, you've been speaking to her acquaintances and not to her directly. Did you not stop to think that would be perceived a certain way?" Remus chided with a lifted brow.

Aghast, Hermione rejoined, "I tried speaking with her, but she's been distant ever since Gin and I … sort of ran into her at Diagon Alley this summer."

Sighing impatiently, Remus finally stood from his seat. "And just what is it that you seek, Hermione? I believe if you think about it hard enough, you'll find you already know the answer." Remus' voice held an edge. He impolitely stepped around her, leaving her to puzzle out his words on her own.

Hermione slowly turned to face the werewolf. "So, it's true. Lavender's been … infected."

"Yes," Remus calmly answered. "I've arranged with Professor McGonagall to have a room prepared for her in lower halls to change. Ms. Brown didn't want to be alone during such a trying time and sought me out to talk about. I had thought about offering the Shrieking Shack as a place of refuge, but that place is frightening enough. So I offered to spend some time with her this afternoon. She's been given the Wolfsbane potion, the same as I, and shouldn't be a bother to the students tonight."

Hermione bristled when he said this, but she didn't know exactly why. "So are you going to shift together, then?"

Remus chuckled sourly. "Wouldn't be the best idea for a pair of werewolves to shift together, so no, we are not going to spend the full moon together. Professor McGonagall thought it for the best and I agree."

"Is that why you two were talking out in the courtyard?" Hermione persisted, not entirely confident that Remus was telling the truth.

Remus ran a frustrated hand through his hair. "Pity the poor girl should want some advice on how to cope given her newly discovered reality from someone who's been there before," he remarked viciously. "Isn't that the general idea of your class?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes at her professor. "There's no need to be rude. I had a genuine question, I was seeking to answer." Seeking to end this conversation lest the beginnings of something ugly grew in her stomach, she bent down pick up her items scattered amongst the table and couches.

"What are you doing?"

Hermione paused briefly as she rammed another book into her shoulder bag to reply, "The moon rises in a few minutes. I am leaving." She quickly resumed packing her homework.

"But you just got here."

Hermione whirled on Remus in anger, taken aback at how rudely he had snipped at her just moments before. Or maybe the irritability that was affecting him was now affecting her, she didn't know. "And now I am leaving." A pain radiated from beneath her heart and it grew in waves the closer she neared the door. But she ignored it. "Goodnight, Remus. If you'd prefer, I can come check on you in the morning, but I'm afraid that I must bid you goodnight." She had reached the door handle before a strong gripped encased her upper arm.

She winced at the contact but not from the strength of it. At the point of contact, something fiery encased her arm to the point of discomfort. It weakened, yet empowered her at the same time.

"Please. Don't leave," the whisper was small, but the will behind it was strong. Remus' plea tore at her will to escape and although she tried, she could not force her foot to move out the door. Her body could not disobey her _Ulfric's_ command and she stubbornly remained facing the door; she was no longer leaving, but she made no move to re-join her professor either.

"I… apologize," he panted as if the simple sentence pained him. "So close to the full moon, the physical and emotional separation between us is painful. The ever-changing moods are an unfortunate by-product."

Hermione remained facing the door that led to the hallway, but closed her eyes in sympathy. With a prayer sent skyward, she turned around. "The moon rises in a few minutes Remus. I don't think I should be here," she repeated to him quietly. "You've taken your Wolfsbane, yes, but this," she indicated the space between her and him as if it was too close for comfort, "is … too much, too soon for us, I think." In truth, it was too much for her. "Perhaps it would better if I left now," she tried to quietly pull from her Gryffindor courage.

But Remus eyes' tugged at her soul as he fell to one leg before her, his knees suddenly collasped under his weight. "I-I understand," he struggled to admit with great difficulty. "Perhaps you could you help me to my room? I'd rather … my wolf not get into my records and books … come morning." A slick sheen of sweat had started to coat his brow and Hermione found herself fascinated by the physical changes occurring before her. Hesitantly, she reached a hand forward to swipe away the perspiration that had gathered there. Her thumb was cool against his heated skin. His eyes blinked at the contact and she could see a flash of yellow overtake his irises just briefly.

"I hadn't a chance to thank you for the present this morning. That was very kind of you." For some reason, Hermione thought it was important to give her thanks now, in case there wouldn't be another time to do so come morning.

"I wish I could've been better company for your birthday. Happy birthday, Hermione." The smile Remus gave in return was forced and strained from his impending change. Worrying her lip, Hermione gathered an arm under Remus' shoulder and lifted the werewolf from the floor. Together, they moved slowly across his sitting room and maneuvered around the pair of sofas.

His legs were leaden and it took all of her strength to keep him upright. She reached out to steady him when he suddenly jerked as the sun set in the distance. Her small hand ran against the front of his shirt and the muscle beneath sank inward as if her touch physically pained him.

The top of her head reached the underside of his arm and she was close enough to inhale his scent. Space and movement paused as she inhaled the rich scent of Remus J. Lupin. Sweat covered the whole of his body now and it comingled with the worn leather of his fabric to caress her nostrils. Vaguely aware she had closed her eyes, her nose pressed in just slightly for a deeper inhale. He was absolutely alluring to her!

Above her, Remus had gone perfectly still and she pulled back, only measurably so, keenly aware that her hand lay just above his heart. Hermione looked up to find him staring down at her. The arm over her shoulders shifted and pulled her in closer and Hermione felt a wave of persuasion possess her limbs.

Her breathing matched his, ragged and uneven.

Time slowed and her world blurred, muted to only smell and sounds.

A rapid heartbeat played just beneath her right hand as her fingertips brushed over the scratchy wool of his pullover.

The comforting smell of wood and earth, fresh after a long rain, surrounded her. When had Remus pulled her into the heat of him, she barely had time to wonder?

Cool air brushed across her forehead, as a firm hand ran over her shoulder and down her back, drawing her ever closer to him … closer to her _Ulfric_, something deep within told her.

She had woken up that morning craving physical intimacy, craving human touch. She wanted to be comforted … perhaps something more, but her evening with Ron didn't work out as planned and there had been nobody else to quell fear of insomnia that stole her rest at night.

Now, she stood within the circle of Remus' arms and that need for reassurance, for comfort, multiplied.

With a blink and start, she gasped at the realization. Above her Remus, growled as if her soft exclamation triggered his response. Was Remus reacting to her need for intimacy? The logical part of her brain tried to rationalize that this was just because of his mark and the _paramouric _bond they shared.

Something else told her that this was a result of the moon's pull on them both. Their bond was reacting to pheromones heightened since the moon had reached a certain station, but that voice was weakening. Why else would Remus stare down at her, his pupils blown wide, full of heat? His glare was deadly and alluring at the same time. Amber depths bled to obsidian as it centered on squarely her.

Unconsciously, she wet her lips as she shuddered against a spell more powerful than initially described in written word. "Remus, we have to … need to get … to your room," she whispered with a great deal of effort. She swallowed to refocus her bearings.

What were they doing just before this? She struggled to remember.

That same force pulled from the center of her being, deep where her well of magic lay; it was powerful and no matter how wrong she knew this to be and it would not be ignored.

Is this what it means to be his _paramour_? Hermione thought to herself with a sigh, opening her gaze to focus on the wall of his chest as he backed her into the closest wall.

One hand settled at the base of her neck, the other hovered just over her hip, hesitating ... waiting for her permission. His thumb caressed her ear as fingers wove into her curls and massaged her scalp. She couldn't help it.

She leaned into his touch and felt another hand settle above the waist of her jeans. That hand was more insistent than the one softly tugging at her hair.

Heated fingertips inched under her shirt and she let him. She closed her eyes tightly, trying to ignore the way he made her feel, but she was helplessly at his mercy. Five barely-there points of flesh scorched her stomach as his hand dipped under and up her shirt.

Her head, now ensconced securely in his grasp was pulled back. Her neck now laid exposed to him and much later, when this was over and she lay frozen in her bed, she would think on how she arched into his touch. How she had sought his hands, mouth and fingers on her flesh.

Something seemed to snap in the werewolf and his hips rolled up into her, pinning her back against the wall. She bit her lip to keep from moaning at the sensations his actions caused. Remus nipped at the sensitive skin of her neck, not happy with her need to be quiet. He nipped the sensitive flesh again and it pulled at her womb. The more he licked and kissed her skin, the tighter her core coiled. The friction from his hips grinding against hers increased the pressure; it built and built upon itself .

The hand beneath her shirt had climbed high enough to caress the mark left on her, _his mark_, and she gasped at the same time her womb clenched violently in anticipation. Her knickers now uncomfortably wet, she parted her legs to accommodate the growing girth she could feel within the seat of his trousers.

"_Remus_…" she pleaded heavily. She was drowning in a sea of werewolf and the baser part of her sang in approval. Hermione didn't know whether she wanted him to stop or to continue, she couldn't honestly say. She was lost, panting and yearning for something only her _Ulfric_ could give her. And she might have taken it, if it wasn't close to moonrise.

That chilling thought sent ice water through her veins and mightily, she planted two hands on his firm chest and shoved. Caught off-guard, Remus staggered a step away from her. She had no desire to meet Moony for a second time and her eyes conveyed that message as she lay against the wall, her hair tussled, her neck sore. She was sure he had left another mark there.

"Go." The word wobbled in her throat as she reached up to pull her shirt back down, covering evidence of how far they had almost gone. She turned her head, unwilling to look him in the eye again. "Go, _now_!"

There was a moment of harsh breathing on both ends. She used the time to clear her head, still swimming under her _Ulfric's_ spell.

A rough voice, deeper than Remus' normal baritone, answered her and somehow she knew that Moony had taken over. The man she knew as her professor was gone. "My human tries to stop want we both desire, but you must know, I will win. In the end, I always win." He had moved closer to her and innate power rolled off of him in waves, power reserved for creatures she had read about in textbooks. Had Remus been hiding such power for this long? She fought the force within that compelled her to yield before him; her lip quivered with her resistance. The mark beneath her chest ached with the display of insubordination, but she would not be swept away by some bond.

Moony was close enough that she could feel his presence, but he did not touch her. She blinked up at him, perplexed. "You are strong, witch. Yet your sweet cunt quivers for my cock just as it did that day in the forest. Your _Ulfric_ hasn't forgotten, my sweetling. And neither has my human." A warm breath tickled the wet skin Remus had paid delicate attention to earlier. Hermione shivered in response. "Attend to yourself tonight since you've so stubbornly denied yourself. But a fair warning, my human will only to hold himself from your honorable sensibilities but for so long."

Hermione felt his presence ease, then disappear, and only when the distant shut of a door reached her ears, did she release the breath she had been holding. She slid the ground in shock, her legs spread out before her.

Her hair was a mess, her clothes tussled and she was positively burning from a sick combination of lust and shame. She wanted nothing more than to tear off her clothes and take a long, hot shower. She would have taken off too if not for the pained cries and snarls that were now coming from behind the door a few feet away from her. They slowed her movements momentarily.

The howls were distressed and so full of longing that she couldn't help but crawl over to the closed door on her knees. She sat, hunched in the doorway, taking in every snarl, growl and pained cry as her penitence. She worried her bottom lip as she hesitatingly reached for the doorknob, before halting her actions.

But the howls died away as the moon rose for the evening and soon, tattered breaths quieted a slow and even breathing. The wolf stalked behind the bedroom door, apparently restless, but did no further damage from what Hermione could hear.

She sat there for some time, her back to the closed door, replaying the events that led her to this moment. Little details she had missed were picked apart and studied. She knew Remus' volatile mood swings were a result of his condition and the nearing full moon, but she took into account what Moony had just imparted to her. Was it physically costing Remus to honor her agreement as his wolf had said?

She was surprised that the wolf had not just taken her as he did the morning of the Final Battle, but there was no catalyst this time to bring Remus to the edge. Hermione mused he still held some measure of control, hence the reason why Moony had not touched her then. But he didn't have to, did he; she had just given herself to Remus not moments before.

Hermione pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes. Gods, what was she thinking? What about Ron? Idly she thought she could go to him now, but she would feel despicable in doing so. No amount of snogging with her sweet boyfriend would undo the images, the _feelings_, Remus had instilled in her tonight. And she wasn't ready to tell Ron the entire truth.

No, she thought, as she hugged her knees to her chest. It would be best to stay here until she could slow her still-pounding heart and clear her head. The full moon was having an effect on her as well it seemed.

She felt a heavy weight settle against the door she was leaning on. The wood creaked and groaned under the pressure. Looking down to the slit beneath the door, Hermione slipped one then two fingers beneath the door and a quick swipe of tongue told her that Moony had joined her position on the stone floor.

That, along with haunting yellow eyes, was one of the last things she remembered before she fell into another's night of fitful sleep; this time they were filled with tormenting dreams of another kind.

* * *

A tanned and scarred arm wearily groped around the bed for a duvet before pulling it down to the floor below. Remus took what little strength he had left to cover his nakedness and eyes, the morning sun streaking through his bedroom window stung his un-adjusted eyes.

He kept a small vial of restorative potion in the bottom drawer closest to the bed for such occasions and weakly, he fumbled with the knob to open the blasted thing. He quickly found one and downed it immediately. His bones ached having recently been reformed and realigned back into a human shape left his body alternating between feeling feverish and deathly cool.

The restorative potion would last long enough for him to gather food from the elves, eat, collapse back in the bed and sleep the remainder of the day away. Hastily throwing on a dressing robe, he exited his bedroom for his main sitting area, knowing the elves would leave his morning meal on the table outside.

But when he opened the locked door, he was surprised to see a mass of chestnut curls fall forward. Quickly, his reflexes brought him to the ground to catch the sleeping witch before she hit the ground. He couldn't believe Hermione had stayed the night, and slept by his door, at that, by the look of things.

He gently laid her on his bed instead the couch. He knew firsthand how unforgiving the stone floor could be and felt she was more deserving of his bed than he at the moment. The poor girl was out cold, her head lolled to the side as she sank into his pillows. And there, staring in the face was the evidence of what they had done the night before. A bright red bruise sat in the crux of her neck and shoulder – another mark he had left. Pushing her hair out of her face so she could sleep, Remus left. He knew there would be more to talk about when she awoke but for now, he would let her rest. She looked tormented, even in her sleep.

As he ate, he became distantly aware of his last actions as a human before his transformation took him. Moony had been ever eager to make an appearance last night and literally pounced at his _paramour's_ reception to his advances.

Remus dropped his fork to his plate with a distinctive 'clink'. Except that hadn't really been Moony's advances, had they? Last night, he did everything he could to stop himself from completely ravishing Hermione Granger against his sitting room wall, but it had been torture not to touch her, to run his hands along her soft, delicate skin and mark every inch as his own.

And when she had finally bared her neck to him, he had greedily taken what she had offered. Gods, he had feasted on her. Her soft sighs and moans were enough to release Moony who had demanded that Remus rut the girl against the wall.

He tried to stop but his wolf had just laughed at him. That was the last thing he remembered before waking up on his bedroom floor that morning. It was enough to take the rest of his appetite. Making a decision, he called for the house-elf Simmy, to provide another serving for Ms. Granger for when she awoke. He ordered the elf not to speak to another soul that a student was awaking in his quarters. The elf swore his silence and disappeared with a soft 'pop' back to the kitchens.

Now finished with his meal, his head grew heavy as the effects of the restorative potion drew to a close. Pushing back from the table, Remus stumbled less than gracefully to the couch and before his head could hit the throw pillow, he was out like a light.

Several hours later, Remus awoke for the second time that day fully alert; he had bolted to an upright position. Someone was moving within his chambers; he lifted his head and inhaled deeply, and was instantly calmed. Apparently Hermione was awake. That thought brought a half-smile to his face before it instantly vanished.

No, he had not misheard.

His sensitive hearing picked up a second pair of light footsteps moving down the outside corridor and unless he was mistaken, they were headed towards his door. Casting an eye towards his closed bedroom door, Remus rushed to fasten his dressing robe and put on a pair of worn trousers.

From the light fragrance wafting through the door, he knew immediately who had come to his quarters this early Saturday morning. He stilled himself with a deep breath before opening the door a bit.

"Good morning, Ms. Brown. And how are you feeling this 'fine' morning?" he asked as gently as possible. He often met his condition with self-decrepitating humor and it was enough to bring a smile to the young woman's face. She looked as awful as he felt, and Remus knew it would be especially harder for her as she was just a few months into her new condition. Remus had years of experience to deal with his condition and he could read the same exhausation, anxiety and fear that had once been his all over her pale features.

"Not so good, quite honestly," his student admitted after a brief hesitation. "Professor, if it's not too forward, may I come in?"

Remus bristled and kept the door from opening further. "I don't think that is a good idea, Ms. Brown. It would be improper to do so." Even as he said the words to her, a part of his stomach rolled.

Remus could hear Hermione just a few doors beyond. She had emerged from his private loo and was ready to enter the main sitting room. Remus could smell her natural scent of jasmine and spring through the door and he searched Lavender's face for any indication she could smell her former roommate as well. He cleared his throat and continued, "What I mean to say is that it would be improper to speak within my private quarters, but perhaps we can meet for lunch within my classroom or the courtyard, if you wish."

Lavender's eyes narrowed and her nostrils flared just enough to let Remus know she had picked up an unfamiliar scent. Remus schooled his face to give no credence to her searching suspicions. "Of course, Professor. I just haven't been able to speak to anyone who really understands what I'm going through. I really appreciate the assistance you've given me outside of the classroom." She smiled brilliantly at him.

Remus raised an eyebrow at her coy actions, suspecting the words weren't directed to him in particular. He thanked Lavender, sent her on her way and locked the door behind him. He waited until he could smell her scent no longer before turning back around.

Just as he suspected, a silent Hermione stood in the entryway of his bedroom door. The angle of the doorway made it so she could not see the person who had come calling this morning, but Remus knew the 'brightest witch of her age' would easily figure it out.

"I see you're awake," he said by way of greeting. His heart skipped a beat as his gaze zeroed in on the dull red mark on her neck. She must have used a glamour to hide the majority of it; but it would be hard to miss for the duration of the weekend.

"Just in time, it seems. Wouldn't want you to be late for your lunch date," Hermione coolly clipped back.

He could see her trying to come to a conclusion within her mind's eyes and he held up a hand to stop her train of thought before she could voice it aloud. "Now, Hermione that is unfair. Whatever you are thinking is untrue."

Hermione shook her head angrily. "Forget it." She reached down for the book bag she had left in a forgotten heap the night before.

"Where are you going?"

"Back to my rooms," she tersely answered.

Remus reached for her arm. "We need to talk." But she cruelly snatched it away from him.

"No, we don't."

"Hermione, what happened last night…" He began.

"Was a mistake!" She threw over her shoulder, as she hurried past the sofa. "I trusted you! We had an agreement, Remus."

"How can you be that naïve!" He shouted, suddenly exasperated with the entire situation. His body was still sore from last night's transformation and a now a headache was building behind his eyes. "I held back my wolf for you! Do you know how badly he wanted to get you last night?" He could have easily replaced 'he' for 'I' in that sentence and it would have been just as true, but he didn't say that part aloud.

She clicked her tongue scornfully at him. "Oh, I know, Remus. Moony told me." She frowned at his look of utter confusion. "He imparted to me some of your more … baser urges as well. Seems you two share more in common than you think. And if you never thought this arrangement was going to work, you should have said something," she finished with crossed arms, waiting for his reply.

Remus stored away the fact that Hermione had actually spoken to Moony and replied to the last thing she said. "It's not like I can peer into a crystal ball, Hermione. You'll have to visit Trelawney three floors up for that."

"Don't be a prat. I'm serious!"

"And so am I!" Remus almost roared at her in frustration and she shrunk back from the power in his voice. Taking a deep breath to lower the intensity in the room, Remus wiped a hand over his face before continuing in a much calmer, controlled voice. "I apologize for yelling. When I saw you had stayed the night, probably despite your best judgment, I knew we would need to speak about what this means for us going forward. I've instructed the house-elves to bring you breakfast. Please," Remus indicated to the tray, warmed from an everlasting heating charm.

Hermione glanced towards the table, then back at him. Something he never wanted to see in her eyes again greeted him and it tugged at his heart. Fear.

"I don't trust myself around you," she spoke plainly. "You make me … lose myself."

"Hermione…"

"No, it's true! I see these two conflicting sides of you, Remus and I can't reconcile one with the other."

Remus lowered his head and laughed scornfully at that.

"And maybe I was naïve to think I could sit with you a few times a month and have nothing come from it. But now, I don't know." She blinked back a few tears. "Last night, I _wanted_ you." At this, Remus sharply turned his head towards her, surprised she would admit it. "And I didn't know if it was because of our bond or if it was because _I _wanted _you_." She pulled her book bag over her shoulder and held her arms close to herself. "It was consuming and so _strong_ a-and … and everything I thought it couldn't possibly be after everything that has happened this past summer." She wearily pushed a wayward curl out of her face. "I don't know. I just need some time to think things over."

Wisely, Remus said no more and allowed her to leave. It was certainly not how he wanted to spend her birthday and he gathered it wasn't hers either.

* * *

_A/N: Anyone else always find the last line of the chapter the hardest to write? For the life of me, it's hard to properly end a chapter. But I digress, I am so sorry, dear readers, for the long delay. I've been travelling for work, dealing with sick kids, caught pneumonia myself, and simultaneously prepped my house for Christmas. But I did not forget about this story! More is coming now that I had a little down time to work on my updates._

_If you could kindly leave me a note to let me know what you think, I would so appreciate it! Happy New Year!_


	9. October Moon, Part One

Chapter Nine: October Moon, Part One

* * *

The first full moon of the school year had now passed.

Only nine more to go.

That disparaging thought soured Remus' mood as he readied himself for his classes; today would be a long day with four classes back to back. After that disastrous but achingly tease of a first moon, Remus found he had fallen into a frustration he couldn't shake. The feeling lasted longer even as other symptoms usually displayed after the full moon began to wane. The moon cycles had not been this hard during his first tenure as a teacher at Hogwarts, although the circumstances surrounding his second time around were completely different than the first.

Remus was struggling, but he was doing his best to honor his _paramour's_ request. Hermione said she needed time to think and Remus would be, if nothing, honorable despite that sordid blemish earlier in the summer. However, it was hard to ignore her presence within the grand expanse of Hogwart's walls. Both he and she would cross eyes in the Great Hall during meal times. He would always lower his head first lest the stare go on longer than propriety deemed necessary, but he could not stop himself from chancing another glance once she had averted her stare. Her robes covered a lean, tight profile she kept hidden away from all but a select few. With hooded eyes, he watched the youngest male Weasley sitting next to her and wondered if he had been one of the select few.

Her scent enticed him as she patrolled the halls of Hogwarts during her morning breaks. It was hard to miss lingering wisps of Jasmine and spring once he turned a corner in a given hallway and he would know immediately: Hermione had just been there. At night, the last remnants of her scent were just now beginning to leave his pillow. He would never admit to anyone that he clung to that particular pillow a bit harder than necessary during the darkest of the night.

She sat in his class just once a week, and he took great care to treat her as he would any other student; but he found it difficult not to observe her when she was this close. He longed to ask her how was she doing? She looked constantly on the edge of something, perplexed, and fatigued from trying puzzle out whatever had been assaulting her mind.

One day near the start of October, he broke his class into small groups for work on an assignment due by the end of term. As she worked with her group, he studied her hair; the memory of how soft her riotous curls felt between his fingers was still fresh in his mind.

His fingers flexed and stretched with the thought of touching it again. He felt a flare of anger over wash him suddenly as young Ron Weasley threw an arm around his _paramour_ in a friendly fashion. Remus had to repress a growl at the sight and immediately turned his head towards other students in the class.

He didn't miss Lavender Brown's quirked blonde brow as her eyes briefly met eyes his. He sighed as he nodded his head towards her in acknowledgment, but said nothing and move on.

And that was another thing.

Ms. Brown had apparently mistaken his willingness to be a receptive ear for something more than what it was. The pheromones she released out of lust were undeniable the several times she came to call during his office hours. He wasn't sure of it at first, but the wolf in him could tell by smell alone as his student came to the peak of her cycle (not one of his most proudest times as a werewolf, he was sure). He quickly put an end to whatever hope she held the night she visited his classroom, using the guise of their illness to discuss in length the baser urges and needs that overcame their species during the height of the full moon.

He ended their talks then and there with the explicit reprimand that she discuss _that_ _particular urge _with her Head of House. The blonde had pouted, clearly affronted, before attacking his sexuality and storming out of his office.

Wearily, he reminded himself that mating instincts, hormones, and the fairer sex were a recipe for disaster. Especially for those with an inclination towards animal instincts and tendencies.

He wasn't proud of that fact, but he could admit it. His naive _paramour_ had done something to him the night of her birthday; with little less than a kiss she had awoken the animal within him that even his beloved Dora hadn't. At times, he would become overwhelmed with the need to snatch her away and tie her to his bed. The dreams at night were the worst; they would be blissfully happy, completely at peace with their _paramouric _bond and she would be waiting for him, ever responsive and willing. The young witch had wound her way into his bloodstream and nightly, his wolf prowled behind his heart seeking to take what he already believed to be rightfully his.

It was purely physical he pleaded constantly with Moony: an itch to scratch, a means to an end, he told his animal. He was mentally stronger than his wolf and had been for several decades now. He wouldn't let one little snog (although it had knocked him to his knees) overthrow his life, even if said witch looked liked a fallen angel when lost in the throes of laughter, as she did now.

Her neck was stretched back as she laughed outright, her eyes closed in mirth as she guffawed loudly amongst her small group. She gave a little snort at the end that ran straight to his cock.

From behind his desk, Remus coughed and crossed a leg over his knee to hide the burgeoning erection. Gods, this witch would be the end of him, he thought as he groaned under his breath.

The feeling must've been passed through the _paramour_ bond, because just then she slowed her laughter to look over her shoulder at him. Remus swallowed roughly and pretended to grade papers before him. Except when he glanced up and through the fringe of his hair, the significant look was still leveled upon him. She gave a timid half-smile and broke the contact before returning her attention to her group.

He sat back with a sigh and a prayer. He was a fool to ever believe that such an arrangement would ever work between them and lamented ever taking this sodding position in the first place.

* * *

They were more than half way through October and the winds were beginning to increase in magnitude against the ancient, stone walls. All of Hogwarts was gearing up for the first Hogsmeade weekend of the year (well, those who could go were); few could contain their excitement as the Head Girl sat in her ACT class. The was chatter of which shops had been rebuilt after the War and which should be visited first.

Rather than planning for a safe trip and order amongst the rabble, Hermione's thoughts strayed toward another kind of excitement as she studied the long lines of her professor's arms as he scribbled the notes for the day on the blackboard behind him. He was desperately trying to keep order amongst the rowdy seventh and eighth years.

Her thoughts strayed as recalled the strength he hidden beneath his robes. Remus could be quite strong when he wanted to be; which went against everything she had previously thought she knew. She remembered their strength most intimately as lean, taunt arms wrapped possessively around her head and waist during the past full moon; how they had struggled between light caresses and firm, but sure clutches across her person. She could still feel the residual burns trapped beneath her skin where his fingers had left a burning trail. Her mark ached daily now.

As she sat at her desk, she rolled one shoulder to ease the mounting tension growing in her back; it tickled like a feather, but the feeling persisted. Restless and annoyed at her lack of focus, she uncharacteristically let her mind wander during Remus' planned lesson and she found her mind … drifting to traitorous thoughts one should never think about a professor, even if they had once been friends and comrades-in-arms.

She would never admit it aloud, but after that dangerously close liaison, Hermione had found herself seeking Ronald's arms a few days later. She thought valiantly she could mimic the same passion the _paramour_ bond created between she and Remus.

Her boyfriend was shocked when she grabbed his arm one afternoon after Transfiguration. She held him behind the others pretending to check-in on an essay due soon. But once the hallway had cleared, she had launched herself onto him and snogged him senseless. She grasped his robes for balance and hoped against hope that the same fire would awaken within her belly. Although he had been surprised, Ronald had responded wholeheartedly and eagerly.

But not even the sweetest kiss (and heavy petting, if she remembered accurately) was enough to staunch the crushing reality that reared in the back of her mind. The entire time, she felt wretched: completely unmoved, unfeeling, and numb. She broke the snog less than a minute in and pulled back from a breathless Ron with the realization that this was a mistake. All of it.

Ron was slow to open his eyes after she abruptly pulled away, but when he did, he found her frowning. Not exactly the ideal picture one would expect after a heavy snog. Curiosity led to nit-picking and nit-picking led to a full-blown argument over who was at fault and just like that, her plan to spend quality time with Ronald blew apart in a huff of anger and accusation. Both parted with cutting insults and neither spoke to each other for more than a week.

Harry and Ginny knew the two had a major row, but chose not to get involved lest sides were taken. Hermione's reverie was shattered by a voice that haunted her dreams.

"Ms. Granger, can you list three techniques employed by Argyle the Fearless during the recovery following the First Goblin War?"

Amber eyes widened as she came back to her class. Godric, she had zoned out during the lecture and now Remus had singled her out! He stood behind his desk, hands patiently placed upon the wooden surface her classmates turned to face her in the accompanying silence. Any response that took more than two seconds to formulate was unheard for Hermione Granger.

Unreadable brown eyes met her own and she struggled to answer her professor; she desperately tried to place where they now were. Looking down to her text, she noted she was several pages behind her tablemates. "Um," she swallowed, "Mediation via pensieve utilization …"

"Incorrect," Remus interjected before she could continue. "If you'd kindly skip ahead two chapters, you'll find we'd covered pensieve strategies last chapter. Please do try to keep up, Ms. Granger. Five points from Gryffindor." Remus gave her a nod before continuing on with his lesson.

Ashamed, she lowered her head towards her text as her entire upper body flushed with embarrassment and anger. How dare he single her out?! It wasn't like she meant to zone out.

Even though she had cost their House points, Ron sniggered beside her and she threw an iced-over glare at him. They may have not been talking, but she certainly didn't need _him_ rubbing it in. Flipping a couple of pages ahead in her text rather loudly, she found where her class was currently reviewing the wizarding world's recovery after the devastating effects of the First Goblin War. She stewed in her seat.

She spent the rest of the class alternating between pointed glares at Remus and her text, but made sure she listened with rapt attention for the remainder of the period. As the bell sounded signaling the end of their time together, Hermione made a point to gather her things slowly as her class filed through the doors behind her.

Ron was quick to leave, while only Harry stayed behind to ask if she was coming. Shaking her head in the negative, she waited until he, too, had left before she gather her shoulder bag and approached Remus' desk.

His back was to her, the same back she had been studying all morning, and although he seemed unaware of her approach, she knew it was just façade.

"Is there anything I can help you with, Ms. Granger?" He spoke calmly to the board as he erased his notes from the day's lecture.

Hermione wasn't much of a complainer, baring fifth year where the Ministry interfered with her DADA curriculum, but she felt the express need to confront Remus for his unfair treatment today. Her pride had been a little more than hurt and she expressed her displeasure aloud.

Remus regarded her carefully as she outlined her case. Unfolding his arms to place them his pockets, he responded diplomatically, "It does no good for students to witness our Head Girl daydreaming in class. At all times she must be an exemplary model to other students. Take heed, Ms. Granger, other teachers may have been less lenient," he causally warned before returning once more to his blackboard.

She blinked, taken aback from the subtle reminder and backed off … somewhat. Dutifully trying to remember her position in this variation of their relationship, she respectfully replied.

"But I couldn't possibly be the only one who's had an … unfavorable moment in class? You haven't singled out anyone all term. Why now?" Why _me _was what she really wanted to say. She would have died of mortification if she told him she had been thinking about her rocky relationship with Ronald, but now, she was genuinely curious to hear his answer.

Remus sighed, wearily, as he locked his briefcase and shrugged. "The opportunity presented itself and it tickled my fancy," he deadpanned. "In fact, detention with me tonight may settle the matter, don't you think?" He lifted his brows to her non-answer. "Well then, I must be on my way. See you at nine."

There was a prickling of fabric across her shoulder and then he was moving past her. Completely aghast, she felt something akin to hurt sweep across her chest. Had he just dismissed her? She watched him leave her alone with a sense of irritation at something other than lost House points and the completely unnecessary detention.

After her short schedule for the day was over, Hermione exchanged dinner with her House mates in the evening in lieu of research within the Restricted section of the library; she persuaded her friends she would have a late night studying in the library (which wasn't a hard sell at all) to cover her detention with Remus. Pages of unread tomes called out to her as she marched through the looming stacks on her way to the Restricted section; her fingers itched to pull each and every one of them off the dark shelves and run back to her room.

But she was a witch, determined.

Madame Pinch informed her she would be the only one perusing this portion of the library and that was exactly what she wanted. Finding several works to start with she threw herself into the history of magical bonds, dark and light in nature, and though she blushed more than once at the crude words detailing the mating habits of were-creatures, she plowed on for science's sake.

Her heart rate sped up and her breathing became shallow as she engrossed herself on anatomical changes likely to accompany werewolves during mating cycles. Though she brushed over the passage initially, more than once she found herself returning to re-read the same details until they were burned behind her retinas.

…_it is known that a male were-wolf will knot his mate in order to ensure conception. The engorgement of erectile tissue in were-mammals during copulation holds in bodily fluids well past ejaculation. Though periods of uncomfortable-ness are often reported, a were-wolf's mate will find their body accommodating the male's girth. Increased intimacy and multiple orgasms from the knot's presence are been known to occur. It is nature's way of ensuring the seed is kept in-utero, thus aiding conception. A virulent male will seek to mate until he his seed has taken, often multiple times over the course of several days… _

Goodness.

Hermione pushed away from the passage, her legs pressed tightly together after the strangest flutterings flew across her lower abdomen. Godric, was reading this actually turning her on?

She mulled over the thought before coming to the horrifying conclusion that it was! She had never felt so keenly aware of her body as a woman before and was struck by the urge to rub her legs together to ease the slow ache that had gathered just by reading the words on the page.

She rarely masturbated after trying and failing to bring herself to orgasm a few times after her sixteenth birthday; she found the activity crude and not needed if she was honest with herself. Then the war was upon them and well, her focus shifted to more important things. After the whole incident with Remus immediately following the Great Battle of Hogwarts, sexual intimacy was the farthest thing from her mind (her crumbling relationship with Ron was proof of that). But that didn't mean she had never imagined what it would feel like. In fact, she had some inkling of what it _could_ feel like as a flashback from the last full moon overtook her mind (that was happening more and more as of late).

Biting her lip, she sat, alone, in the expanse of the library with the just words on a page and a indescribable memory warming her skin. She rubbed her legs together pitifully, to ease the ache that had settled there. But it just wouldn't do.

Quicker than she imagined, an image of Remus and she flashed before her lids. She was back in his room, pinned against his wall, his mouth dedicating precious attention to her neck. Hermione lifted a hand to the same spot dream Remus explored and once she touched cool fingers to warm flesh, she released a breathy sigh. She pulled open sinking eyelids with a startling realization.

She skipped a few pages forward in the worn book before landing on the passage she was searching for. Hastily, she marked a few notes onto parchment before stuffing it inside her bag and setting off. She didn't know when she had made up her mind, but just like that the decision was before her and she acted without a moment's hesitation. Better now than later, she reminded herself. Before they both ended up hurt.

Her feet easily found their way to Gryffindor's portrait entrance. By now, she could walk there in her sleep if she felt so inclined. Rather than whispering the password and searching for the wizard in question herself, she sent a younger year in with the message to meet her outside while she ran through her impromptu speech in her head.

It was late, well after dinner, but she just knew he would show.

She paced up and down the small space in front of the portrait, her courage building the longer she waited; but as soon as one of her oldest friends and now-boyfriend stepped through the frame, she felt her courage fall beneath her feet. He looked like he had been interrupted; he was a little skittish, but seemed happy enough to see her.

Hermione took a breath for courage and started steadily, "Listen, Ron. We need to talk." Well, she got through that part alright.

He stuffed his hands inside his pockets, staring down at his feet. "Yeah, I know."

Oddly, his admission didn't take her by surprise. She continued, "We both know we haven't been happy as of late. I don't know the reasoning behind it…" **Lie**, she screamed at herself. "… but it's had an effect on this relationship. And I miss us," she stated quietly. "The old us, I mean," she amended for him.

Ron nodded. "Yeah."

Hermione waited for moment, expecting him to say something else. Even though she knew it was for the best, she couldn't stop the slight deflation of her shoulders. Her first relationship had officially failed. "Well, that was unexpected."

"Was it, really? We've hardly seen each other outside of class. You're always busy with your duties. You hardly eat with Harry, Gin and I. No one's barely seen you, 'Mione."

Hermione pursed her lips together at the awfully structured sentence, but willed herself not to correct him. "I have a decent enough reason," she argued weakly.

"Yeah, great one at that." The tall red-heard rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. "Look, you're a great girl …"

Hermione snorted at that. "Well spotted."

"But maybe it would be best … you know, to remain friends?" Ron tried to smile and whatever annoyance she felt bubbling beneath the surface, quickly dissipated.

"I would like that." Well, that had been devastatingly easy as she chuckled to break the tension. She reached forward to give him a hug, which he happily returned. Disembarking from said hug was a bit awkward, but she gathered they would return to pre-war Ron and Hermione with time.

"Uh, so … yeah, see you around," Ron finished a touch of his former confidence returning after the worst of it had passed.

Hermione nodded and her feet ached to turn around and leave. "I'll see you around, Ron. Tell Harry I'm sorry I haven't made practice. I'll be down this weekend after the Hogsmeade trip, I promise." She backed away, not before waving one last time, before she turned around and headed back down the stairway. She had exactly two minutes to make it to Remus' classroom for her detention.

She never noticed the small slip of parchment fluttering to the stone floor as she left. But Ron did.

He moved forward to pick up the forgotten note and immediately recognized the neat handwriting as Hermione's. Across the parchment were the words:

_Physical dynamics of bond shifted? Moodiness may stem from sexual frustration? Explore ramifications with R __immediately__._

Ron's head lifted sharply, instantly seeking the curly-haired witch, but the elusive Head Girl was nowhere in sight. Who the bloody hell was 'R' and what the hell did this mean? It sure as hell wasn't meant for him, since she damn near beamed in relief as they ended their brief relationship (if one could call it that). It wasn't like Ron was heart-broken over the decision. Kissing Hermione was like tonguing a wet fish and no matter how hard they tried, 'it' just wasn't there.

He figured things between the longtime friends would be awkward for awhile, but imagined Hermione would get over it soon enough. Heck, he was practically out the door (there was this sixth year he had been flirting heavily with after Quidditch practice) before his girlfriend had come calling for him tonight. But now, after reading this, the gears in his mind spun.

Hermione had been seeing someone else prior to the collapse of their short relationship, he mused slowly. She had to be. And by looks of it, she couldn't wait to explore her new found freedom with this 'R' immediately.

That set Ron on edge.

His face matched is crown in color as Ron crinkled the slip of parchment in one hand. But he didn't discard the piece of parchment. Instead, he pocketed the small item and promised he would find out who she was seeing if it was the last thing he did.

It was a matter of principle, really.

* * *

_Author's note: Well, we all knew this was coming because honestly I can't write Romione. Can**not** It's like my fingers burn trying to hit the keys. Ah well - now that our witch is free, let's get onto the fun, yes ;-) Wonder what Hermione learned in the library and I wonder which "R" she's going to go explore with (as if you don't know ). Next chapter is coming soon (literally, it's practically done!)._

_And a special thank you to __**j-jip**__ for the shout out. Honestly, you have a favorite Remione of mind, both 'As The Moon Rises' and 'Of Weddings and Warfare'. So yeah, if you haven't read either, go do it now!_

_Thank you so much for the reviews and thoughts everyone . It truly means the world to see a notification that someone has taken the time to leave a note on this story. I appreciate every one. X_


	10. After

_A/N: Yes, Remus was being kind of mean last chapter, but he had a reason. Read on to find out. Methinks you're going to like this one …_

Chapter Ten: After

* * *

Hermione entered her ACT classroom with a flourish. She struggled for breath after running across the castle to make it to his detention on time. "You were an absolute prat this morning." The door behind them closed with definite slam.

"A good evening to you too, Ms. Granger." Her professor sat behind his usual desk at the head of the classroom, already buried in a mountain of homework. It looked as if he had skipped dinner as well.

"I get that you wanted to make a point," she carried on as she made her way into the empty classroom, "but I hardly find this necessary." She waved a hand before her.

"We will have to agree to disagree then."

"Unless you had an ulterior motive," she muttered beneath her breath, as she sat down at the desk he had prepared a few rows away from him. So she would be grading quizzes tonight – wonderful. She caught the sly smile he gave in response. Even across the room, Hermione knew he had to hear her. But her professor chose not to respond to her quip.

After fifteen minutes of working in silence, she chanced voicing aloud what had been on her mind since her earlier time at the library. She was never one to hold a new discovery in for long. "You know if you wanted to speak to me outside of the classroom, you could have sent me an owl."

Remus kept his head lowered as he focused on the parchment before him. "I have to admit that it wasn't my brightest idea, Ms. Granger, but it was all I could think of at the time."

"Do try harder next time, _Professor_ _Lupin_."

That made him raise his head, but he shook it after a small chuckle. Point conceded. "How have you been?" he chanced, the prior tension ebbed.

With that question, she raised her head and studied him closely. She saw the weariness etched around his eyes, though he tried to hide it with a kind smile. Immediately, her heart softened.

Taken aback by the change in conversation, she answered truthfully, "Uh, okay, I guess. Considering I ended my relationship with Ron, I should feel depressed and horrid. But strangely, I don't." She turned back towards her pile of quizzes to grade, but looked out of the corner of her eye for his reaction.

Remus was still behind his desk, a tongue pushed in front of his teeth. "You and Ron are no longer together," he tasted the words.

"As of this evening, no, we aren't." She watched him for a reaction, but years fighting two wars had taught him to school his face perfectly and if there was a noticeable reaction, she could not discern it. Perhaps the dissolution of her relationship didn't bother him, but she knew _one_ topic that would capture his attention. "Earlier this evening, I was researching a counter to the _paramour_ bond…" That had Remus sitting forward in attention. Smiling smugly, Hermione overrode his anticipated interruption and pressed on. "I know you think there is nothing that can be done, but I've not given up so easily."

"Giving up and accepting truth are two different things, Hermione."

"Well be that as it may, I came across something … interesting in Restricted Section regarding the properties of mated werewolves' bonds." She failed to mention the all that she had discovered, though the red on her neck had to be a dead giveaway. "It brought back something Moony said to me last month," she partly chewed on the end of her quill as she thought back to a month ago.

Remus peered at the witch lost in thought sharply. "What _exactly_ did Moony say to you? Why have you not told me?" he questioned somewhat forcefully.

She caught his eyes immediately, the warning clear. "We both needed space to calm down after getting so carried away," she chided him. "It wasn't exactly the first thing on my mind that morning if I recall. But as I was reading over a certain passage tonight, what he said then sort of clicked for me." She shook her head, as if it upset her that she had not seen it before.

"What clicked?"

"Moony said, 'it was physically costing you to hold yourself back for my sensibilities,'" Hermione quoted verbatim. She chose not to disclose everything Moony had said, nor the effect it had upon her person. Shivering slightly, she placed the quill down on the desk, and looked meaningfully at her professor who promptly bristled in reply. "I know firsthand that the physical aspects of such a bond are hard to deny. I foolhardily thought to circumvent them; another means to an end, if you will. But I fear all I may have accomplished has only hurt you further," she finished apologetically.

Remus regarded her. "Moony is a sly creature who would say and do whatever it took to mate you. It would be best if you'd remember that."

"I _do_," Hermione stressed, in case he had forgotten. Thinking back to that fateful day in May, she knew just how uncaring and forceful Moony could be. There was silence after that and she picked up her quill, intending to get back to work. She was glad for the distraction after reliving the memories mentioning Moony brought forward.

Gently, a hand touched her shoulder. It startled her and made her jump in her seat. "I'm sorry," Remus gave in soft reply and she looked up at him. "I didn't mean to drag awful memories back to the surface."

Hermione nodded in acceptance, a lip caught between her teeth. "I know."

After a breath, she pursued, "But was it the truth, Remus?" She appraised his demeanor. "You've been off." To his amused stare, she amended, "More so than usual. The mood changes, your physical appearance, you're losing weight again, and by the looks of it, you're hardly sleeping. You can't tell me this is solely because of the approaching full moon." With a deep sigh, she placed her hand just below her heart. "I know because I can feel it." She stared at him with large, brown eyes capable of discerning truth from lie.

Remus broke the stare and turned away from her. He walked resolutely back to his desk and away from her, as if it was taxing to be near her. Maybe it was?

Wearily, her professor asked, "What is it that you seek, Hermione? If I tell you the truth, you may not be able to handle it." She could feel the weight of his words prick at her heart.

"I can handle a lot more than you think," she challenged to his back.

That statement made him pause, but he did not turn to face her.

Hermione stood from her chair, the papers temporarily pushed aside. "I've been handling a lot more than you can imagine for quite some time now. Believe me, I know what it feels like to succumb and ask for help. It's a character flaw I can accept now…" With a breath for courage, she rushed out, "And I recognize the same in you."

Remus sighed rather loudly and turned his head just over his shoulder. But he did not look at her. "I thought disentanglement from this bond, from _me_, is what you were seeking." She noticed his hands had balled into tight fists as if to restrain himself.

Hermione bit her bottom lip, but remained resolute. "All of this started because I didn't want to see you in pain," she reminded him forcefully. "I still don't."

At that, Remus turned fully around; the expanse of the classroom separated them. The weight of his amber-yellow stare made her gut clench. "And do you remember the pain, the hurt, the ugliness that followed from your decision to meddle the first time?" he bit sharply back at her. She knew he was purposefully trying to hurt her feelings, trying to force her to stop and retreat before they crossed a point of no return. But she swallowed down the acerbic remark and nodded, choosing to continue bravely.

"I do, but I also remember a man who has been trying to atone for his mistakes. Who has apologized and has been patient with me throughout this entire ordeal. I see a man who has suffered because of it. Who _is_ suffering because of my actions. I would never wish that on such a man." She walked slowly passed two rows of desks, but hesitated on walking any further. She would not give herself so freely as she did before. He would have to meet her halfway this time. "Remus, you have listened to me, but maybe it's time I listen to you. I want to help, but I don't know how." She lifted her chin with finality. "Tell me."

At that moment, she felt each and every one of her nineteen years. Though mentally mature than her peers, she couldn't deny that she lagged behind in the ways of physical development … in the ways of intimacy. She was probably the least experienced among her friends; giving her virginity as a result of a sacrifice for a friend did not count in her mind. She wrung her hands before her as she lowered her gaze to her fingers. She stood at a precipice; her heart was pounding through her ears. What if he refused her outright? Any sort of rejection at this stage would be horrible to her still-repairing psyche. Dashing it all to hell, she prayed for the ground to swallow her whole. This had been a mistake. The tips of her ears burned red with embarrassment. Why wasn't he saying anything?

A warm hand covered the top of restless ones, briefly staying their nervous movement. Looking through lowered lashes, she found during her mental indecision, that Remus had quietly closed the distance between them. He stood just within the space of her.

It took just one of his hands to cover both of hers she remarked in amazement. Another hand alighted on her back and tugged her closer to him. His head dipped to meet her eye-to-eye. Hermione could see the wolf struggling for control; but the man she knew, the man she still nursed a crush on, that man sat in control. It gave her a measure of comfort.

His eyes searched hers. "Are you sure?"

She could only surmise what he sought permission for and hoped she was close. She nodded, breath momentarily stolen as she felt a pull, small and powerful, begin to build at the center of her chest. "Yes," she verbalized her response for his benefit (and maybe hers too, if she were honest). There would be no doubt this time. "Umm," she hated that her voice sounded small, but she was terrified. Terrified and excited beyond measure at the same time. "I'm not quite sure what to do."

His lashes lowered at her honesty and his gaze dropped to her mouth. "Then let me show you." He hooked a finger just under her chin to pull her towards him. Within the span of an inhale, he closed the distance between them. His lips met hers with such tenderness that she stood frozen in shock. Her eyelids fluttered closed.

This was a far cry from the enthusiastic, dominant Remus she had met on her birthday. She wondered if he was purposefully trying to be cautious for her benefit. He moved indulgently over closed lips and hesitantly she parted them, allowing him access to her mouth for the first time.

That small action triggered something larger with the both of them. Something deep within her opened and blossomed against her heart. The space beneath her ribs became impossibly small as warmth spread up and through her. It climbed up her throat and made her gasp against his mouth.

Her prior skittishness melted as he deepened the kiss between them and she felt her confidence grow a bit. Emboldened, she nibbled back at his bottom lip as he pulled away; but that succeeded in making him come down upon her with even more vigor. She would have smiled if her mouth weren't occupied, she felt that good. She could hardly believe how she felt. Remus was fire-personified and he absolutely consumed her; she bent backwards from the force of it, but his arms held her firm in his grip. He had been keeping all of this passion just for her and her body tingled with part-fear and part-excitement in anticipation of it. She felt arms tighten and encircle back. Then her feet no longer touched the ground.

She lifted her hands to cup both sides of his face in effort to taste him truly, while he moved them to Gods-knew-where. Fingers explored every nuance of his face as she gripped him to her. Instinctually, she lifted along his body to wrap her legs around his waist and he growled against her approval. Her vision was a blur, taken from a lack of oxygen, but she didn't need to see. She could _feel_ his hands searching, lifting along the underside of her shirt. She could feel his torso starving to get as close as it could to hers, though fabric separated them.

Hermione drowned under the force of his kiss. She had never felt this way before, couldn't imagine ignoring such a passion shut within your bones, and chided herself for ever denying such pleasure. No wonder Remus had called her naïve. This is what it meant to be kissed, what dreams could only mimic, what fantasy tried and failed to replicate.

She felt a hand gently cradle the back of her head before her back hit a wooden surface. Her eyes popped opened. Although she quite thoroughly enjoyed kissing him, the feeling of him laying atop of her brought back memories she had not forgotten and she struggled against his weight.

He must have saw the fear bleed into her eyes, because he lifted a hand to touch her left breast through the fabric of her Oxford shirt. "Can I touch you? Here?" he asked so sincerely, drawing her attention squarely to his face. Hints of the teenager he had been peaked through and her heart rate calmed significantly.

Slowly, she nodded her consent and they both watched as his hand un-tucked her shirt from her waist, travelled under and up to her bra cup before … her mouth fell open in a moan at the sensation. The juxtaposition of the coolness of his fingers against overheated flesh was enough to cause her to arch into his touch.

Remus drank in her reaction as he tweaked and rolled her nipple between his forefinger and thumb, until the nub pebbled against her bra.

Hermione struggled against him, but not in effort to move away. Actually, she sought more, but didn't know how to vocalize it. So her body continued to arch into his while he played her like a well-tuned instrument. He lowered his mouth to the crux of her neck, the same spot he favored in her dreams; coupled with the attention he lavished onto her breast, it was enough to make her groan against his ear.

Vaguely aware of what she was doing, she rolled her hips up and into his and was immediately answered with a roll of his own; strong and powerful hips bucked against hers. She could feel his erection pressing into her calf and she moved her leg against the length of it. It must have felt just as incredible as it did for her, for she was rewarded with a breathy groan into her ear. She would cherish that sound forever. Cool air fanned down and across the wet skin of her neck and she was positive she would have another mark there tomorrow.

With difficulty, Remus pushed up to his elbows to look down at her. His pupils were dark and dilated and he looked at her as if she were something to feast on. It made her wet her lips in anticipation. But her brows dropped into a frown as the hand retreated from under her shirt; immediately, she missed the loss.

His voice was rough from restraint and lust. It made her insides quiver as the tenor echoed through her bones. "And how about here?" His voice brought her back to him.

A skilled hand flitted up her skirt and cupped the wet apex between her legs. Her cotton knickers were soaked through as his hand covered her mound. She thought to be embarrassed, but Remus only hummed in approval. He inhaled deeply the scent of her; it must have been alluring, since all she could smell was her own musky scent. "Hermione, can I touch you here?" he asked, a tinge of urgency beneath his words.

Her breathing became ragged as she closed her eyes and took a moment to become accustomed to the feel of his hand this close to her womanhood. It was different, so much different than the feel of her own hand, but it was nice. More than nice, actually.

Eyes still closed, she nodded once more, trying and failing to anticipate the flood of sensations that was sure to greet her. For she would woefully be unprepared for the skill that was solely Remus J. Lupin's.

Her _Ulfric_ moved the fabric of her knickers aside as pushed one finger passed her slick labia; at the same time he reapplied delicate attention to her neck. Her mouth dropped open in shock. A thumb pushed over and around her clit and she could not help the tremor her body gave. Every reaction she gave freely and honestly. It was his to take, she could not deny. And Remus was greedy with her offering tonight.

He pushed a long finger slowly back into her wet heat. At the same time, he ground against her and the pressure inside her lower abdomen, against her neck was … indescribable. Such a far cry from her first physical encounter with the man above her.

She opened her eyes on the next pass, as he stretched her unused walls and pushed a second finger inside to join the first. It was uncomfortable for a split-second, but quickly she found herself lifting to meet his hand.

He kept the pace slow and fixed, despite her growing ministrations that he give her _more_. His mouth suckled sensitive skin into his mouth as his fingers retreated; then it would revert to sweet laves of his tongue as he moved strong digits back into her. Soon she was pleading, begging, possibly weeping against him. Her hands clamored to pull him closer, her body struggled and begged for what, she could not say. But the were-wolf seemed to know exactly what she needed.

"Soon," he promised against her ear as her stomach coiled into itself. "I'm going to make you come so hard, sweetheart," he breathed against her ear and she whimpered in anticipation.

He masterfully switched his pace between a sensual burn and an increased tempo. The change was enough to leave her bewildered and more than frustrated as the minutes dragged by, but each maneuver brought her one step closer to something that was just out of reach. The second he would speed up, she thought she would crest over that elusive edge she had heard her former roommates so often gossiping about. Gods, she was nearly there. But then he would drastically slow his pace as she tightened around his hand; it was just enough to drive her spare.

"Hmm, you are soaking my hand. You must be close."

Hermione wanted to weep at his words. Sweat beaded at her hairline and fell down to the underside of her jaw, but she did not care. Breathlessly, she nodded. Lifting a heavy hand, she sought his head and grasped at his locks, also soaked with perspiration. She pulled his head down to hers, hoping to convey her needs through lips and tongue. Their tongues lazily intertwined with each other and the sensation tingled all the way down to her womb. She could feel a sharp spasm that signaled the end. She had to break the kiss to moan against his face. Stubble scratched along her wet cheek; sensations she didn't know what to do with overwhelmed her. Her mind began to detach itself and the edges of her world darkened.

Remus could no longer hold the pace he kept earlier and with urgency, he began to pump into her; his hips matched the pace his hand held. Something deep within told her he would let her come now as she lay cradled in his arms. She was a sweating, quivering mess as she pushed her center up to meet his hand.

The pad of his thumb pushed hard onto the sensitive nub and she felt a twist of knuckle before her world blacked out. Her womb jumped, then spasmed strongly against his hand. She cried out with the force of it as she felt her walls tighten and pulse around his fingers.

Remus held her tightly to him as wave after wave engulfed her lower body forcing it to move on its own accord. Distantly, she heard a groan above her and his body locked against hers. But that was secondary. She had lost control of her actions, became a puppet to be plucked, and just as quickly, became lifeless in his arms. But the contrasts between that very first time and now were vastly different. Remus continued to draw her orgasm out until it reached the point of near-pain.

Then quietly, Remus removed his fingers from her with a wet 'plop'. Fluids covered her legs as his drenched hand moved to caress her gently before pulling her knickers back over her. He carefully rearranged her skirt, before moving up along the length of her. He settled half his weight on her and the other on his elbow. Their breathing matched the other as both sought to still their racing hearts.

They lay intertwined amongst each other, sweaty foreheads touching, breathing labored; neither spoke. Both basked in the aftermath, for that was certainly where they were.

After.

They would be no going back after this, Hermione knew. Something in her heart warmed with the thought and she glowed in the aftermath of Remus' touch. That wasn't that bad at all, she thought with a nearly-there smirk.

Her lips quivered with hesitation to speak, but he beat her to it.

"Sssh, sweetheart. Don't say anything. We can talk about it in the morning, but let's just enjoy the moment, shall we?"

She hummed in agreement and nodded against his chest. They lay like that for a while, before their stations brought them back to themselves. He spent copious amounts of time rearranging her clothes as he helped her off the desk. She tried to avert his stare, lest a fierce blush strike and cover her face.

How was she supposed to hide this? They were barely to Halloween and she just _knew_ half the school would know as soon as she set foot outside of his classroom.

But she figured they would discuss that and more come morning. Her professor and _Ulfric _kissed her goodnight, completely chaste to what he had just given her a moment ago, with a look and promise that more would come after the full moon passed tomorrow.

Suddenly Quidditch practices, Hogsmeade trips, and even homework seemed less exciting than what was in store for her.

* * *

_A/N 2: And so our two protagonists have crossed a threshold. What happens from here? We'll find out next time… Please review! More to come..._


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